Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale
by Lillian C1
Summary: Complete! Five unwed sisters have little hopes of making a decent match in the rustic town of Bree. However, the distant stirrings of the War of the Ring lead to unexpected improvements in the local marriage market.
1. Chapter 1

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale Part I 

By Lillian C.

_This is a product of having way too much free time between college classes during my undergraduate program. I wrote this about….seven or eight years ago I think and came across it again the other day. I thought it might be fun to post considering the recent LOTR and Pride and Prejudice movie releases. Enjoy! Review or not as you will. I wrote this because it was absurdly fun, and I don't think I remember worrying too much whether it received reviews._

Throughout Middle Earth, it is universally understood that hobbits, when sitting at the fireside among friends and tolerable relations, must close the day with a pipe and tobacco (Longbottom Leaf, of course!) and a good tale. At the time when the Fourth Age was yet young, the most popular tales in all the lands recounted the journey of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom or the glorious reign of King Elessar.

However, the hobbits as well as the Big Folk of Bree often remember another tale, a tale that took place during those years of tension and unrest before the War of the Ring. They alone remember it, for it was nearly lost amid the wars and darkness that arose at the end of the Third Age. (And, more importantly, it was based on a rather local occurrence.)

Here, the tale is written as the Big and Little Folk of Bree remember it:

On the outskirts of the town of Bree stood the house called Longbourn where lived the Bennet family. Though not wealthy by any means, the Bennets were highly respected among the Bree-folk, for their descendants had lived at Longbourn beyond the recollection of even the eldest of the townspeople. Some even believed that their descendants could be traced back to the first Men that wandered into the West of Middle Earth ages ago.

However, at the waning of the Third Age, the Bennets' respectability was endangered. Mr. Bennet suffered from the most pitiable condition of being the father of five daughters and no sons. Thus, the Bennets would soon sadly be no more.

What was even worse in the eyes of the Bree-folk was the fact that Longbourn was to be inherited by some outsider upon Mr. Bennet's death. Though quite accustomed to travelers from foreign regions, the Bree-folk were by no means partial to the idea of one settling permanently at one of the oldest houses in the neighborhood!

Of course, the Bennets themselves were keenly aware of the misfortune of their situation, but they, Mrs. Bennet in particular, tended to lament consequences of a different nature than those most feared by the common Bree-lander. If at least one of the five Miss Bennets did not made a profitable match before the death of the father, they would be no less than penniless and left at the mercy of a William Collins, a distant relation of Mr. Bennet's who lived in some strange land in the south. Mrs. Bennet's greatest fear was that she and her unmarried daughters would be forced to work at _The Prancing Pony_, her brother's inn at the heart of Bree. Her daily wails and lamentations were more than Mr. Bennet could tolerate, so he habitually sought refuge in his small library or in long walks that sometimes extended as far as the Old Forest.

Fortunately for her daughters, Mrs. Bennet was not always to be found in the depths of despair. She found the greatest comfort in her anticipations for her eldest daughter, Jane. Jane was surpassingly beautiful, as fair as an elf-maid, and her disposition was as sweet. _After all_, Mrs. Bennet often mused, _why would great beauty be endowed to a lady if not to catch her a good husband_?

For her next two daughters, Mrs. Bennet had little hope. Elizabeth, though endowed with a modest amount of beauty, had none of her elder sister's sweetness and all of her father's irony. _Perhaps it might be very well for a man to have such wit, but it was not at all becoming in a lady!_ And poor Mary! She was as plain as any common Bree-lass and found no amusement outside a book cover, except when she played airs upon her little harp. Kitty and Lydia, the two youngest Miss Bennets, were pretty and lively girls, though they could not be compared with Jane. Their mother was certain that they at least would marry once Jane was well settled.

So poor Jane was burdened with the greater share of her mother's hopes and schemes, and she knew her mother would not rest until those hopes were gratified.

Mrs. Bennet's eyes were always open and eager. Good catches were not to be found at Bree, so when opportunity should arise, she must be ready to snatch it. And one day, an opportunity did come...

"Come girls! Not a moment is to be lost!"

Bursting from the doors of _The Prancing Pony_, Mrs. Bennet scurried down the streets of Bree, her two youngest daughters following close behind. Kitty and Lydia pleaded to their mother in vain for an explanation of her excitement and haste.

"Nay, girls! Mr. Bennet must be the first to hear the news!"

Her daughters responded with an abundance of pouting and whining, neither of which abated until they reached Longbourn. Once they entered the house, Mrs. Bennet went promptly to the library and shut the door behind her. Unfortunately, it was a vain precaution. Her shrill voice was clearly heard through the door.

"Mr. Bennet! Oh, such news have I had from my brother! Netherfield is to be let! And who do you think has taken it?"

"I am no wizard! Who?"

"A man of fortune, to be sure! He must be if he is settling at Netherfield! His name is Binglorn, and he comes from the North, I believe. I have had it from my brother that-"

"Binglorn?" Mr. Bennet murmured in surprise. "Impossible!"

"Impossible? What can you mean? Do you doubt Mr. Butterbur's information?"

Mr. Bennet did not answer but seemed to become lost in his own thoughts. He remained in that state until his wife's impatience was too deafening to ignore.

"Calm yourself, my dear. I have no doubt whatsoever that Mr. Butterbur is as accurate now as he has ever been. Tell me something, though. What think you of Rangers?"

"Rangers? What have they to do with Netherfield's tenant? I leave Rangers to Kitty and Lydia, for they are quite wild for them, you know, especially when they have a good tale to tell. But I am thinking of Jane! She does not care for Rangers. Her beauty will serve her better than to win her the hearts of wanderers and riff-raffs!"

"Kitty and Lydia wild for Rangers?" Mr. Bennet mused. "Then Netherfield's new tenant is a happy change indeed!"

Mrs. Bennet never knew how to respond to her husband when he chose to be incomprehensible (which was rather often), so she resumed her relation.

"Mr. Butterbur has invited Binglorn to the dance on Saturday! Is he not clever? Binglorn will meet Jane and will most likely fall in love with her. Think of it, my dear! To have a daughter settled at Netherfield would be such a comfort!"

"Mrs. Bennet, whatever the motives that prompted Binglorn to settle at Netherfield, I can assure you that securing a wife was not one of them."

It was obvious to Mr. Bennet that his wife had ceased to attend to his remarks. She continued in the same train, prattling endlessly on the details of fabrics, ribbons, and other things that must be had before Saturday, while he tried to inconspicuously return to his book. He had no difficulty becoming engrossed despite the incessant chatter, for he had had much practice; but his concentration was at last shaken by an "OH, MR. BENNET!"

"Have you not finished, my lady?" he asked without raising his eyes from his book.

"Did you not hear me? You are planning to call, are you not?"

"Call?"

"Call on Binglorn! How else are we to be acquainted with him?"

"I am surprised Kitty and Lydia are not acquainted with him already."

"What!"

"Well, you did say they are wild for Rangers."

"How absurd you are this evening! I do not understand you at all!"

"I am afraid you are right, my dear," Mr. Bennet replied with mock resignation. "Perhaps you had better leave me to myself until I have regained my senses."

"Indeed I shall!"

As Mr. Bennet watched his wife march from the room, his face suggested amusement. Inwardly, he was concerned by her news. He knew of Binglorn, of course, and he knew that he was in fact a Ranger, one of the Dúnedain. Friendship with the wizard, Gandalf the Grey, and a lifelong love of history and lore provided him with enough knowledge to be certain that a Ranger would not settle anywhere while the darkness in the East still thrived. This turn of his thoughts sent cold shivers down his spine. Something of great importance must be happening nearby. He wondered what in Bree or the Shire it could be.

Not that he would allow anything to take away from the amusement he would have at Mrs. Bennet's expense, but he would most definitely pay Binglorn a visit in the morning.

After some searching, Jane found her sister Elizabeth sitting quietly beside a tree on the lawn and steadfastly gazing into the sky. She smiled and shook her head at the sight, knowing Elizabeth had a strange, almost elven fondness for stars.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Jane asked softly.

"Of course not."

Jane sat beside her, and for some time, neither sister spoke. Elizabeth had eyes only for the glittering sphere above them, while Jane anxiously studied Elizabeth's face. It was during such moments as these that Jane felt most keenly how unhappy Elizabeth would be if she had to remain for the rest of her life in Bree. Her long walks, her constant thirst for news of other lands and peoples, her friendship with the wandering wizard, Gandalf: all these things bespoke the desires of her heart, but the expression that played upon her face as she watched the ascension of Eärendil's star into the heavens was alone sufficient to reveal everything. Jane was almost afraid that Gandalf would one day spirit her sister away to some glorious adventure from which she would never return. Elizabeth felt her gaze and turned towards her with a smile.

"What would you say if I told you I sometimes wish I had been born an elf?" Elizabeth asked in a playful tone.

Jane laughed uneasily. "I would say that I had thought it would not matter what you are, as long as your destiny leads you far away from here."

"Ah, my sister knows me too well! But consider. Would you ever expect to hear an elf complain of over-taxed nerves or palpitations? Of course, I have never _seen_, much less _heard_ an elf..."

"Oh dear. What has Mother done now?" 

"It is what she will do that worries me. Did not Lydia inform you that a young man is to take Netherfield?"

"Yes. His name is Binglorn, I believe?"

"Yes, and he is to come to the dance on Saturday. I suspect that Mama is planning your wedding as we speak."

"Please do not be anxious for me, Elizabeth. Mama is simply very solicitous for our future welfare, and I can bear any discomfort knowing her kind intentions."

"Hmmm... The kindest intentions can lead others astray," Elizabeth remarked dryly, "but I suppose that the sooner you are well settled in a home of your own, the sooner you will be content...and safe from further embarrassment."

"I would be very content if I were the means of bringing comfort to my family."

Elizabeth looked at her sister in alarm. "Oh Jane! I fear for you when you speak so! Let not anyone's comfort but your own be an inducement to marry! How could I be comforted if you were made unhappy for my sake?"

"You mistake me, Elizabeth. I should very much like to marry for love."

"Then do not allow anyone, including Mama, to persuade you to do otherwise!"

Jane smiled softly but did not make any promises.

As the highly anticipated dance drew near, Mrs. Bennet's anxiety rose to unbearable heights. Mr. Bennet showed no indication that he meant to pay a visit to Netherfield before Saturday, and so Mrs. Bennet despaired of his ever being introduced to her dear Jane. When Lydia and Kitty arrived home from Bree on the eve of the dance and informed their mother of Mr. Lucas's visit to Netherfield, alarm took the place of every other feeling. Mr. Lucas, a respected shopkeeper, was the father of two unwed daughters.

"Charlotte and Maria Lucas are no doubt well acquainted with Binglorn by now!" Mrs. Bennet complained to her husband.

"If so, then you needn't despair. They are agreeable girls and will be happy to introduce our daughters to their new acquaintance," Mr. Bennet replied from behind a lengthy letter he was reading.

"But what good will that do? You know how artful Mrs. Lucas can be when she spies a possible match for one of her girls! No. Binglorn is as good as lost to us by now! I will save my nerves from further affliction by putting him out of my head!"

As if to confirm her words, she pressed a handkerchief to her brow and sunk into the nearest chair. Mr. Bennet observed his wife's affectedly noble attempt to get the better of her nerves with amusement.

"I had not considered your condition when I called on Binglorn. You will have all the more difficulty forcing him from your head now. Forgive me, my dear," he said with a chuckle.

Mrs. Bennet sat upright in her chair and clasped her hands before her in a fit of rapture.

Mr. Bennet had, of course, called the very morning after he received the news, though he went with motives that were entirely dissimilar to his wife's. That visit had assured him that he need not fear for Bree at present, and it also made him aware of the fact that he alone among the Bree-landers recognized Binglorn as a Ranger. He had promised Binglorn not to reveal this knowledge, and in return, Binglorn expressed a wish of being acquainted with the Miss Bennets.

When Mr. Bennet informed his wife of the latter, she was nearly overcome. The scene that followed caused Mr. Bennet to sorely regret that he did not wait until the following evening to set Mrs. Bennet at ease.

Barliman Butterbur was happy to gratify his sister's wishes by holding frequent dances in the great upper room of _The Prancing Pony_, but only with the understanding that he would be excused from attending. He was, after all, a very busy man. His brother-in-law, Mr. Bennet, always excused himself as well. It was therefore the part of Mr. Lucas to play the host. Being a good-natured sort, he was content to welcome guests and ensure that every pretty lady had a dancing partner.

Kitty and Lydia were swift to find partners and join the dancers. Jane was approached by many, and Mary retired to a seat in a corner where she intended to remain for the duration of the evening. Elizabeth declined dancing at first and sought the company of her friend, Charlotte Lucas.

"I see that Netherfield's new tenant has yet to arrive," Elizabeth remarked once she joined her friend.

"It is early yet..." Charlotte fell silent when she noticed that the voices around her had been suddenly hushed.

Following the eyes of their neighbors towards the room's entrance, Elizabeth and Charlotte immediately discovered the reason for the strange silence. Binglorn had arrived, and he was not alone.

Elizabeth at first wondered at everyone's reaction. Binglorn was young, fair-featured, and pleasantly handsome. At first glance, nothing out of the ordinary was to be seen. (Indeed, nothing in his appearance would betray his affiliation with the rugged, travel-worn Rangers.)

It was when Elizabeth's eyes rested upon Binglorn's companion that she began to partake in the general astonishment. The grace and nobility of Binglorn's carriage paled in comparison to the striking figure that stood beside him. Unlike Binglorn, he was very tall, and his hair was as black as jet. In stark contrast to his alabaster complexion, his eyes were a shade of gray so dark and deep they could almost be called black, yet they glimmered with a peculiar brightness. _Like stars_, Elizabeth observed wistfully. He was the first man Elizabeth had seen that she would have ever called beautiful. But his was a beauty that was hard and venerable, and he had the air of both a lord and a warrior. However, his person alone was not responsible for the dumbfounded faces that encircled him, for none of the Bree-landers had ever before beheld an elf, much less a high elven lord.

Mr. Lucas was the first to recover, and he strode across the room to greet the new arrivals.

"Binglorn, you are very welcome to our little gathering here," Mr. Lucas said with a low bow.

Binglorn returned the gesture. "I thank you, Mr. Lucas. Now, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to one of my dearest friends," he paused as he gestured to his proudly aloof companion, "Darcë."


	2. Chapter 2

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale 

Part II

By Lillian C.

"An elf at Bree!"

"They say he is a great lord come from the havens in the West."

"And he is one of Binglorn's closest friends."

"Is not his raiment very grand? He must have wondrous riches of his own!"

"What a pity for our young ladies that he is an elf!"

If Darcë felt any discomfort at being the object of such scrutiny, his countenance did not betray it. As he walked with slow precision along the length of the great room and observed the dancers, his face remained impassive save during those brief moments when the slightest hint of disdain distorted his features. It was soon perceived that, not only was he disinclined to dance, but that he also repulsed every attempt to draw him into conversation. To Elizabeth who observed his movements with curiosity, Darcë seemed to feel himself in every way above his company.

Binglorn, on the other hand, mingled with ease and open friendliness among the Bree-landers. People soon declared him infinitely more agreeable than Darcë, and he made Mrs. Bennet very happy by singling out Jane to be his first dancing partner. Though Elizabeth herself opted to join that dance as well, she was able to divert enough attention from the steps and her partner to see that Binglorn and Jane were more than pleased with one another. Mrs. Bennet, of course, detected this also and did not scruple to share her instantly inflated hopes with Mrs. Lucas and any other matron who had the patience to listen.

And so the evening progressed. Darcë continued to be inscrutable and distant, and his proud demeanor was quick to transform his earlier popularity into general dislike. Binglorn remained in good humor, dancing with the younger Miss Bennets and the Lucas sisters and finally escorting Jane to the dance floor once again.

He did spare a few moments from his partners to accost Darcë, seeing that his friend took no delight in the festivities and did not try to make himself agreeable.

"Darcë, will you not dance just once? It pains me to see you so withdrawn!"

"Would you have me be so familiar with such company as this?" Darcë asked incredulously. "You need not concern yourself with me. I have been busily employed during the past hour trying to fathom how I allowed you to persuade me to come here."

Elizabeth, who sat close by, heard the exchange and feared Darcë's words would affront Binglorn. She was pleasantly surprised at the sound of Binglorn's laughter.

"Ah, Darcë! A whole hour? You should have approached me at once for an answer!"

"And what would it have been?" Darcë asked, his voice, for the first time that evening, lightened by amusement.

"That you delight in humoring me, of course! However, all jesting aside, I would have you enjoy yourself this evening. We are not in Rivendell, to be sure, but I daresay there are a great many fair maids present who would make amiable dance partners!"

"One fair maid, you mean," Darcë replied with a nod in Jane's direction.

"Yes, she is all loveliness! One could fancy her an elf-maid! But look there! Miss Elizabeth Bennet, her sister, is very lovely too, and I found her to be quite pleasant-spirited when I had the honor of dancing with her."

Darcë studied Elizabeth a moment and promptly withdrew his gaze when her inquisitive eyes met his own.

"She might be tolerable according to mortal standards, but she is hardly worth a second glance from one whose eyes are accustomed to beauty of a much grander scale. I am in no mood to humor you this time, Binglorn, so I suggest you return to your fair partner."

Elizabeth stiffened at this evidence of supercilious disdain, but innate good humor conquered in the end. She rose from her seat and strode past Darcë to find her friend Charlotte, laughter all the while threatening to escape her lips. Finding Charlotte, she immediately related the great insult she had received from the elf-lord whose eyes, unbeknownst to her, closely followed her every movement. The lighthearted laughter that arose from the whisperings of the pair was enough to ease Darcë's concern at being overheard, though it was not as kind to his pride.

Darcë spoke little as he returned with Binglorn to Netherfield after the dance. Binglorn left little to be said, anyhow. He spoke tirelessly of his delight in his new situation (however temporary it may prove to be) and of the charms of the young ladies of Bree, particularly those of Jane Bennet. Darcë attended to little of what Binglorn said, so absorbed was he in his own thoughts. As they drew near to the gates of Netherfield, Binglorn noticed his friend's thoughtful silence and realized he had been in that state since they left _The Prancing Pony_.

"Come, old friend. What is the subject of your reverie?"

This sudden inquiry unsettled Darcë, and he hesistated before answering. He certainly had no desire to reveal the true subject of his thoughts.

"Could the minds of mortals possibly fathom elvish thoughts?" he asked.

Binglorn shook his head. "You have lately been rather hard on us poor mortals, Darcë. Are you weary of my company now?"

"No, my friend. Forgive me. I was simply evading your question. I had been thinking of...the people we encountered at Bree. I thought them very strange, very rustic."

"And you do not like them."

"I spoke not so, but can you expect me to be comfortable among them?" Darcë sighed. "I have had few dealings with mortal Men. I hardly know what to make of them most of the time."

"Nonsense! You have known me for many years."

Darcë smiled slightly. "Young one, my life has been long, longer than you could comprehend. I have endured through many ages of the world. The years that seem so long to you are as the blink of an eye to me."

"You seem sad. I have noticed that your spirits have often been depressed of late."

"I am weary of life and weary of this world," Darcë replied with a shrug. "Nothing is left for me in Middle Earth, yet I have no desire to sail into the West. My heart does not hear the call of the sea as the hearts of other elves do. In the First Age of the world when I followed my lord Fëanor from our ancient home in the West, the lands of Middle Earth spread before us, unconquered and endless in their possibilities; but by the end of that age, our kingdoms crumbled beneath our feet. My kindred perished, as did the cursed House of Fëanor that I served. Indeed, I am the last of the Fëanorians. To be a lone survivor is a sad condition."

Binglorn pondered Darcë's words, wishing that for a moment he could understand the melancholy that was as constant to his friend as his shadow. "Is death, then, your only refuge?"

"No! It is the fate of the elves to dwell within the circles of the world until the End, whether their spirits be housed in flesh or no. Only one of the elves has truly died."

Binglorn did not ask for an explanation, for he knew of whom Darcë spoke. Any Ranger would have known. Long ago, it was Lúthien Tinúviel who became a mortal and died the death of a mortal, all because she loved a mortal. Thus her spirit, with the spirit of her beloved, was allowed to escape from the world.

Elizabeth arose earlier than her sisters the next morning and went downstairs to find her father (which was no difficulty).

"Good morning, Father!" she greeted cheerily as she opened the door to Mr. Bennet's library.

"Good morning to you, my dear. Did you enjoy the dance?" Mr. Bennet inquired with a little more curiosity than he usually felt on such occasions.

"It was certainly a very interesting evening. There was much to be observed by the satirical eye," Elizabeth replied thoughtfully. "The others enjoyed themselves quite well. Kitty and Lydia never lacked dancing partners. Mary was content to keep company with her intellect and danced not at all. Jane danced with Binglorn among others…"

"Indeed? And how did you all find Binglorn?"

"Not at all like I expected. He was very amiable and made himself at home in a moment. One would think he had lived in Bree his whole life. I believe Jane was very pleased with him, and he with her."

"Yes, your mother apprised me of that detail last night. But you say nothing of yourself."

Elizabeth, regarding her father with eyes that scintillated with secret merriment, only laughed heartily in reply and eased herself into the chair that faced his desk.

Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow and asked, "Surely you were not forced to keep company with Mary's intellect as well? Had you any partners?"

"Oh, I had a sufficient number of dancing partners, at least enough to discourage Lydia's taunts. Would that Mary had been so fortunate! However, if you are determined to know all, then you had better ask with whom I _did not_ dance."

"Enlighten me, then!"

"I had my first encounter with an elf last night _and _had the honor of being slighted by him! It seems I cannot boast the wondrous sort of beauty to which he is accustomed, so dancing with me was out of the question. I pity elves. To have senses so numbed by great beauty that they can no longer enjoy the world can hardly be tolerable."

Mr. Bennet listened to his daughter's relation with an intense interest. "An elf at Bree – and at the dance? It is unheard of!"

"He was quite of your opinion, I am sure. He came with Binglorn. More importantly, he is reputedly an elf lord of high lineage and has a mighty fortune hidden somewhere. Of course, I gave as much credit to the latter as I would any information I receive from the ever-reliable matrons of Bree. As for the former, Darcë's appearance and manners were sufficient proof."

"Darcë did you say?" Mr. Bennet asked suddenly.

"Yes. You are not acquainted with him?" Elizabeth would truly not be surprised if he were, given her father's many travels and exceptional knowledge of elves.

"No, but I know of him. And does Darcë currently reside with Binglorn?"

"I would assume so. They left the dance together."

Mr. Bennet paused thoughtfully and closed the book he had been reading.

"Considering your account of Darcë and what we have both seen of Binglorn's pleasant temper, they must have a very…interesting friendship," Mr. Bennet mused.

A soft knock at the door prevented Elizabeth from responding, and she turned to see Jane peeking in the room.

"I thought I would find you here, Elizabeth. Good morning, Father."

"Come in, Jane. What is this I hear about your monopolizing Binglorn at the dance?" Mr. Bennet inquired with affected gravity.

Jane blushed deeply and, with a look, begged Elizabeth's intervention.

"Father, you are very mean. Binglorn monopolized _her_," Elizabeth said, favoring Jane with a teasing smile.

"Binglorn's manners were pleasing and wholly irreproachable. I am sure he would do no such thing," Jane put in shyly.

"Of course not, my dear," Mr. Bennet responded kindly with a wink in Elizabeth's direction.

At that moment, the three were startled by the sound of doors rapidly opening and closing upstairs. Mrs. Bennet's "MRS. UNDERHILL! YOU ARE WANTED IMMEDIATLEY!" filtered through the ceiling and wrenched their ears. Mrs. Underhill was the longtime housekeeper of Longbourn and was always at odds with her mistress because of her reluctance to ascend to the upper floor. (She was, after all, a hobbit.) Many of Mrs. Bennet's nervous episodes arose from this difficulty.

"Your mother is up and about early today," Mr. Bennet observed with an irritable sigh.

"Which means she is feeling unusually industrious for some reason or another. I advise you to be cautious, Jane," Elizabeth added.

Elizabeth's scruples were well founded. Shortly after, Mrs. Bennet burst upon the three in a great fluster of haste and urgency. Seeing her mother equipped with Jane's cloak and a basket, Elizabeth quickly began to surmise her mother's intentions.

"Apples Jane! I have just spoken to Mrs. Underhill about it. Oh, we are in dreadful need of them!" Mrs. Bennet declared.

Elizabeth stepped to the window and looked out with concern. "Mama, are apples so urgent that Jane should walk almost to Netherfield and chance being caught in the rain?"

Mrs. Bennet joined her daughter at the window, and an absurd expression of eagerness alighted upon her features as she gazed at the sky.

"Well, the weather does look as if it might turn bleak…Jane, you must go at once! But take your time. The apples will not be wanted till supper."

"I will go, Mama," Elizabeth offered. "Jane has only just risen."

"No you will not, girl! You are not nearly as gentle as Jane and would bruise the apples. Besides, there is nothing for _you _at Netherfield."

Mr. Bennet chuckled and said, "My dear, the subtlety of your endeavors never ceases to amaze me. Now, do continue this elsewhere. I would like to continue my book undisturbed."

Elizabeth looked pleadingly at her father but to no avail. He had already absorbed himself in his book. With a quiet sigh, Jane wrapped her cloak about her and accepted her mother's basket. Elizabeth could barely contain her frustration as she watched her sister disappear over the hill towards Netherfield.

"Well Mrs. Bennet. I congratulate you on the success of your scheme," Mr. Bennet said at the breakfast table as he helped himself to the sausage. "Jane has not only turned her ankle but has caught a nasty cold as well. She will no doubt be laid up at Netherfield for at least a week."

"I only hope she will make what she can of it. It is a pity about the apples though…" Mrs. Bennet replied thoughtfully.

Elizabeth shook her head disgustedly and said, "Mama, I intend to go to Netherfield immediately after breakfast. It is not fitting that Jane should be so long at Netherfield alone, and she would wish for my company."

"Walk three miles in the mud? I think not," was Mrs. Bennet's answer.

"I will not be kept from going. Anyhow, I do not mind the distance. The weather is fine, and I will be less harmed by mud than Jane was by rain."

Mrs. Bennet shrugged. "If you are so determined, I shan't stop you."

"Lydia and I will walk you as far as Bree, Elizabeth," Kitty offered with a sly glance towards Lydia. "We intend to call upon Uncle Butterbur."

Elizabeth observed the silent exchange with amusement. Despite what she knew of her younger sisters' true motives, she accepted the offer gratefully. The three set off soon after breakfast.

As soon as the rooftops of the town came into view, Lydia clasped Kitty's hand, and the two ran giggling towards the gate. Elizabeth, shaking her head at her sisters' giddiness, continued on her own way. She soon found herself immensely enjoying the walk without an endless stream of chatter.

Hopping over fences and leaping over streams and puddles of rainwater, Elizabeth became warm despite the cool crispness of the air and her cheeks were reddened. She shook her head as she approached the grove of apple trees that bordered Netherfield. _Poor Jane!_ she thought bitterly. As Elizabeth stopped within the grove to survey the area where her sister met with misfortune, she pulled back the hood of her cloak allowing her dark curls to escape and dance about her cheeks with the wind.

It was then that Darcë spied her, for he had felt a strange longing to walk about in the morning sun and had strolled idly to the apple grove where Binglorn had found Miss Bennet the day before. Upon seeing Elizabeth, he briefly wondered that another Miss Bennet should be found at that location. In any case, Darcë took full advantage of the opportunity to observe her without being seen and studied her features with an admiration he had not felt at the dance. Her blushing cheeks and dark ringlets were pretty enough, but it was her eyes in particular that fascinated him. He was surprised that he had not noticed them previously. _One could be forever lost in those starry depths…_ – he berated himself before he indulged further in that thought.

Darcë noticed Miss Bennet's figure suddenly stiffen and turn sharply towards him.

"Miss Bennet," he stated by way of greeting.

"Darcë," she replied coldly. "I have come to see my sister."

"Quite a long walk for a lady on such an errand," Darcë observed with a barely concealed smile.

Not being disposed to converse with the proud elf lord, Elizabeth simply replied, "Would you be so kind as to take me to my sister?"

Darcë curtly bowed in assent and led Elizabeth the remaining distance to Netherfield.


	3. Chapter 3

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale 

Part III

By Lillian C.

Binglorn received Elizabeth with mingled surprise and pleasure and promptly conducted her to the guestroom where Mrs. Reynolds was tending Jane. Mrs. Reynolds was a pleasant-natured, elderly woman whom Binglorn had sent for from Bree to act as housekeeper at Netherfield. She greeted Elizabeth kindly and left the sisters to themselves.

Elizabeth looked upon her sister's flushed visage with concern and found Jane's cheek to be exceedingly warm. The cool touch of Elizabeth's fingertips upon her face awakened her.

"Elizabeth!" Jane exclaimed in a sadly weakened voice. "How came you to be here? Or am I home?"

"No, dear Jane. Mama's scheme was only too successful. You are at Netherfield still."

Jane sighed in frustration and said, "Elizabeth, I was never so ashamed in my life than when Binglorn found me all wet and muddied and almost trespassing on his property! I suppose he must despise me now, and rightly! I should never have let Mama persuade me to such foolishness."

"I shall never forgive you if you persist in blaming yourself for Mama's absurdities!" Elizabeth cried with warmth. "Set yourself at ease. I doubt very much that Binglorn could despise you. On the contrary! I have never beheld a man so concerned over the health of a lady with whom he has been acquainted for little more than two days!"

Jane smiled and said, "In any case, I shall try to make a swift recovery. I should not wish to inconvenience Binglorn more than necessary. He has been most kind."

"I am most sure of that," Elizabeth replied causing Jane's blush to deepen.

At that moment, Mrs. Reynolds quietly stepped in and said to Elizabeth, "Master Binglorn wishes me to tell you that you are to stay here until your sister recovers."

"Master Binglorn is very kind, but I would not wish-"

"Not at all, Miss! The Master has just sent a man to Longbourn for your belongings, and the room next door is being prepared as we speak. I assure you, it is no trouble," the housekeeper protested.

"Elizabeth," Jane pleaded. "Please stay. I could not be ill for very long if you are here to keep me company."

Elizabeth could not refuse such a request and resolved to see Binglorn at once to offer her thanks. She followed Mrs. Reynolds into the library where Binglorn was sifting through documents strewn across a mahogany desk and making sundry comments to Darcë who was seated across from him. Both rose and bowed when they observed Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds enter.

"I wish to thank you, sir, for your kindness to my sister and myself. I apologize for having imposed on you this morning, but I could not rest until I saw my sister," Elizabeth said.

"Of course you could not!" Binglorn jovially concurred. "And you are most welcome in my home. How did you find Miss Bennet?"

"I am afraid she is not at all well, sir, but she is determined to improve. I expect that a couple days of bed rest will set her to rights."

"It is to be hoped so, but it will not do to rush her recovery," Binglorn replied with concern. "No doubt, you will wish to take supper with your sister, but if you will join us in the drawing room this evening, we should be very pleased."

Elizabeth gladly accepted the invitation and returned to her sister. There she remained for the greater portion of the day and had the satisfaction of seeing Jane gradually show signs of improvement.

For some reason he could not fathom, Darcë felt uneasy knowing that Elizabeth Bennet was to stay for a while at Netherfield. Of course, he saw her rarely, for she kept mostly to her sister's room. He could only suppose that his uneasiness originated from the awkwardness of their first encounter. Whatever the reason, his pulse unaccountably quickened the moment he heard a sound at the door and saw Elizabeth enter the drawing room that evening.

Binglorn welcomed her among them with his customary cordiality and immediately inquired after Jane's health. Elizabeth was pleased to give him a positive answer.

"Pray, sit down, Miss Bennet, then perhaps we can persuade Darcë here to some storytelling. He knows a great many exciting tales, if you can persuade him to share them!" Binglorn said.

"Binglorn, I despise storytelling. You know it very well," Darcë replied.

"Why should you," Elizabeth asked with curiosity, "if you have an eager audience and a good tale? That is all that is required of the average Bree-lander to become an adept storyteller, which would explain, of course, why there are no secrets in Bree."

"No secrets in Bree?" Binglorn mused. "I thank you for the warning! We had better mind ourselves, Darcë!"

"You despise storytelling as well then, do you not Miss Bennet?" Darcë inquired with a slight smile.

Elizabeth eyed him thoughtfully, almost warily, for a moment and replied, "In _this_ town, I suppose I do."

"But for reasons entirely different from my own," Darcë observed. "For me, to relate stories of the past is to relive the feelings concomitant with them. Such is the curse of an elvish memory."

"And _my _reason is that I do not desire to hear what the people of this town have to tell. Within such a limited sphere, it could only be gossip."

"I am not familiar with the term, but I understand you."

"Do you?" Elizabeth replied archly.

"You mean that the interests of the people of Bree are exclusively related to domestic concerns and that your attention would not easily be engaged by them."

"You are partially correct, but you failed to mention that the domestic concerns of _others_ are what chiefly interest them."

Darcë leaned forward slightly in his chair and asked, "Then what interests _you_, Miss Bennet?"

Surprised by the directness of the query, Elizabeth knew not at first how to respond. She briefly wondered if he was mocking her. Darcë studied her intently, waiting for a response. Binglorn looked back and forth between the two with an amused expression and returned to his papers, as he did not expect a good tale to arise anytime soon from this conversation.

"I suppose I am generally more eager to hear of other peoples and regions of the world," Elizabeth hesitantly replied.

"I thought as much," Darcë said softly.

Elizabeth grew uncomfortable under the elf lord's steady gaze and wondered if he found something amiss in her person. If that were all, she would not be anxious about it. He most likely would not look upon anything from the world of mortal men without detecting some flaw.

Sensing her discomfort, Darcë rose from his seat to look out the window. Elizabeth soon after excused herself for the evening to see about her sister. Darcë observed her exit with a regret he did not understand. He never thought he would take such interest in any of the Bree-landers, much less that cheeky Bree-lass with her pert remarks, her sparkling eyes… Darcë groaned inwardly at himself.

During the times of the day when Jane slept, Elizabeth often sought refuge from the sickroom in long walks. She found the grounds of Netherfield delightful and particularly enjoyed the numerous groves of trees that surrounded the house. Autumn was at its loveliest, and Elizabeth lamented her sister's confinement all the more because of it.

It would seem that Darcë found equal enjoyment outdoors, for Elizabeth met him more than once during her ramblings. She would not take such a thing amiss save that he always chose to continue his walks by her side. Her only consolation during those times was that he spoke little. Whenever he did venture to make some inquiry she would offer little more than one or two words in response. Whether he took offense at her coldness she knew not, but truthfully, she liked him too little to care.

One afternoon upon such an occasion, Darcë was peculiarly talkative and seemed to wish to draw her into a conversation. Elizabeth concealed her annoyance as best as she was able, for Binglorn's sake, and attempted to be receptive to Darcë's efforts.

"Whenever you talk of some aspect of your life here, I detect a certain weariness in your voice and manner. Do I err in assuming you are not content?" Darcë asked.

Elizabeth felt immediate irritation at his presumption but all the more at his precision. "Oh, if I seem so, then I must check myself. I am determined to be content with whatever life presents me. But I suppose my resolution would prove to be rather difficult if life will never present me a path that leads far from Bree."

"Be glad at least that you know what will cure your discontentment. Would that I were so fortunate," Darcë sighed.

Elizabeth felt at once that she could suggest a few things but did not dare to do so, as she felt her impertinence must have some limits. She smiled mischievously instead.

"What amuses you, Miss Bennet?"

Immediately smothering her smile, Elizabeth glanced cautiously towards her companion, but his face only bespoke curiosity and mild amusement. "Please do not mind my whims. I tend to find sources of diversion in any situation. Even in Bree. For that reason, I might always find my home at least tolerable, and I can survive with what is tolerable."

Darcë only laughed in reply and Elizabeth wondered at the sound, for she had never thought him capable of such a conspicuous form of merriment. She resisted the temptation to demand the source of his own amusement and found it to be surprisingly difficult.

As if reading her thoughts, Darcë immediately sought to explain his mirth. "I simply admire with what subtlety you move from a subject that causes you discomfort. Did you know that Binglorn intends to host a dance at Netherfield after your sister has recovered?"

Now Elizabeth laughed in her turn and said, "No, I did not. My younger sisters will be very pleased at the prospect of a ball. May I ask what prompted him to think of it?"

"He certainly did not receive the idea from me, as I take little pleasure in such things. I have no doubt that the idea sprung from his own merry disposition."

Stealing a glance at the elf lord, Elizabeth was surprised to see him smile fondly as he spoke of his friend. _I wonder if I shall ever be able to make out his character,_ Elizabeth thought to herself with a shake of her head.

Four days had passed without a single word from Netherfield, and Mrs. Bennet quickly became impatient to learn of Jane's progress with Binglorn. Whether she gave a thought to the progression of Jane's recovery is debatable. With her two youngest daughters in tow, she set out to Netherfield in the Bennets' buggy to relieve her curiosity on the matter.

With a great flourish and fluster, Mrs. Bennet made her entrance at Netherfield and insisted upon seeing her dear Jane at once. Binglorn was happy to welcome Miss Bennet's relations into his home, and Darcë was angry with himself for not having thought to take refuge in the garden when he heard someone coming up the drive.

Elizabeth escorted the trio upstairs. A half-hour later, Elizabeth led her mother and sisters to the drawing room where Binglorn and Darcë were waiting for them.

"I hope you found your daughter to be improving, Mrs. Bennet," Binglorn said pleasantly.

"I am afraid that I found her quite unwell, sir. It pains me greatly to see such a sweet creature suffer so keenly! It will be at least a week before I can think of moving her!"

"Of course!" Binglorn exclaimed.

Elizabeth tried to reason with her mother, "Mama, I tell you she has truly improved. In only a couple of days, she will be-"

"No more of your impertinence child! I know what I am about! And I am determined that you will accompany us home today, for I have no doubt that you have been behaving as wildly here as you are apt to do at home! Jane will mend very well without _you_!"

Elizabeth turned away to hide her blushing face. Binglorn was rendered speechless. The younger Miss Bennets snickered and whispered amongst themselves.

Darcë stood to his full height and gazed intently at Mrs. Bennet. "I am afraid that will not do, Mrs. Bennet," he said. "Miss Bennet has made it very clear that she does not want to be parted from Miss Elizabeth. Considering her condition, perhaps it would be better to honor her wishes."

The authority of his voice, his great stature, and the nobility of his appearance combined to overcome any objections Mrs. Bennet may have dared to utter.

Binglorn quickly stepped in and said, "Mrs. Bennet, we have taken great pleasure in Miss Elizabeth's presence here. I must second my friend's insistence that she remain with her sister."

Mrs. Bennet curtsied and said, "You are very gracious, sir, but do not hesitate to send her home when she becomes too troublesome!"

After her mother returned to Longbourn, Elizabeth immediately sought release of her vexation in a long and rigorous walk, being careful to choose a path she did not normally frequent. Her mother's habitual thoughtlessness and impropriety were often a source of discomfort to her and Jane, but to have those faults so grossly exposed was almost more than she could bear.

Elizabeth was also surprised by Darcë's unexpected intervention on her behalf. Why he of all people should seek to prolong her visit was beyond her comprehension. She concluded that he really believed her presence would speed Jane's recovery and thus shorten their stay at Netherfield.

As soon as she became too fatigued to harbor her storming emotions, she returned to the house and kept at her sister's bedside until the following morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part IV

By: Lillian C.

Mrs. Bennet proved to be a rather poor judge of health, for the very morning after her visit to Netherfield, Jane was sufficiently improved to leave her room. It was settled between Jane and Elizabeth that they would return to Longbourn the following day, much to the delight of the latter who was anxious to be free from the company of a certain proud elf lord.

Binglorn, though overjoyed to see Jane well enough to leave her room, was not a little dismayed to find her determined to remain but a day longer. He pleaded with her to delay her departure so as not to needlessly endanger her health, but Jane was firm. Finding her so resolute, he decided to hire a conveyance from Bree with which he would see the Miss Bennets safely home.

Among the feelings Darcë felt upon hearing of the eminent departure, relief was actually the most prominent. He was exceedingly disturbed by the emotions that Elizabeth Bennet's presence aroused within himself, and common sense told him that for the greater good of everyone she could not too soon take her leave.

At the dinner table, a contented smile was stretched across Mr. Bennet's face as he saw that the seats to his left and right were no longer vacant. To be confined for several days in a house with four silly females was such a sore trial for him that he had been tempted to remain permanently in his bedchamber and assume his wife's nervous complaint. Fortunately, his eldest daughters chose to return just in time to prevent him from taking such desperate measures.

Mr. Bennet also found an unexpected diversion in a supposedly urgent letter he had received at least two months ago but had not yet been interested in reading. He had it before him at the dinner table, and his chuckling occasionally interrupted the conversation around him. Elizabeth watched her father with a smile but said nothing.

"Pray Mr. Bennet, what is that you have there?" Mrs. Bennet inquired once her curiosity was aroused.

"A letter from the man who will turn you out of the house when I am dead," he nonchalantly replied from behind the parchment.

"OH MR. BENNET!" Mrs. Bennet cried, causing everyone within hearing to wince. She pushed her chair noisily from the table and covered her face with her handkerchief.

"His name is William Collins, and he means to pay us a visit…Judging from the date on the letter, I should expect him within a few days."

"UNDERHILL! MRS.UNDERHILL! MY SMELLING SALTS!"

"Mrs. Bennet, if you will allow me to read his letter aloud, you may find there is little need for you to fall into the depths of despair at present." Mrs. Bennet immediately ceased her convulsions and whimpering and looked at her husband questioningly. "He writes: _My dear Mr. Bennet, the knowledge that one day I will be the means of bringing destitution to your amiable wife and daughters pains me to no end, but I assure you that it has always been my fondest wish to offer certain amends for the inevitable. I am pleased to write that I have now the ability to do so, for I have had the great fortune to be distinguished with the patronage of the honorable, magnificent Saruman the White of Isengard, whose position of prestige and great influence in higher matters requires the services of one with exceptional skills in diplomacy and a keen understanding of the world. This most kind, most affable and wisest of patrons has naturally solicited _me_ to assume the position of his agent in the North, believing that my considerable endowments and my connections will be serviceable to him in that region. Thus, I am soon to depart for Eriador and, with the blessing and encouragement of my noble and benevolent patron, will seek to make myself known to the Bennet family._"

Evidently pleased with the contents of the letter, Mrs. Bennet beamed and excitedly fluttered her hands about. "What a clever man he must be indeed! Pray do not mention my having disliked him before. If he intends to make any… _amends_ to one of my daughters, I shall be the first to welcome him!"

"Ugh! He sounds like a stuffed pigeon to me!" Lydia remarked with a snort. "And who is Saruman the White of Isengard?"

"A person of very great importance, I would imagine," Mrs. Bennet said thoughtfully. Elizabeth, observing her mother's features with interest, thought she could very well guess at the schemes being fabricated behind them.

"As would Saruman himself," Mr. Bennet replied with a small smile. "He is a wizard but unlike Gandalf the Grey, has taken up a permanent residence."

"Very sensible," Mrs. Bennet commented with a sharp nod. "I do not take well to those who wander about constantly, appearing and disappearing and making other people uneasy!"

"Aye Mama, but a _Ranger_ looks all the better for his wandering ways!" Lydia said, looking slyly across the table towards Kitty who immediately burst into giggles. Lydia promptly joined her.

Mr. Bennet looked between the two girls, his face expressionless, and said, "I am sure I need not take to great wandering to discover that here sit two of the silliest girls in Middle Earth."

A few days after the above conversation, a short, rotund man entered through the gates of Longbourn, riding upon a gaunt, half-starved horse that seemed to groan dejectedly beneath his burden. This man, who was of course Mr. William Collins, held his greasy head high, affecting an air of dignity that contrasted ridiculously with the slow, listless movements of his steed.

During the time in which horse and rider traversed the short distance from the gate to the house, the Bennet family had assembled outside to receive their visitor and had had ample opportunity to observe him. Kitty and Lydia exchanged audible whispers, each punctuated with snorts and giggling, and Elizabeth and Jane were constantly forced to check them. Mary and Mr. Bennet each intently studied Mr. Collins' appearance, one with profound contemplation and the other with half-concealed chuckles.

Mrs. Bennet stood before them all, wildly waving her handkerchief about and throwing various exclamations in Mr. Collins' direction: "Oh, what hardships you must have endured to come here! I was so afraid you would be attacked by ruffians or devoured by dragons, and then you would not have been able to come!"

"I should say not, my dear," Mr. Bennet remarked dryly. "You are welcome to Longbourn, Mr. Collins!"

Mr. Bennet was answered with a profuse bow that nearly leveled the poor horse and sent Mr. Collins tumbling upon the drive. The horse remarkably stood firm, however, and with the assistance of the gardener and the stable hand, the huffing and sweating man was set safely upon his feet. As the stable hand led Mr. Collins' horse away, Elizabeth smilingly noted the new spring to its steps.

At first, to some parties, the conversation at dinner that evening could be called _somewhat_ amusing; but by the time the second course was served, it became evident that Mr. Collins had little to say that did not relate to his esteemed patron or his esteemed patron's abode.

"The Great Saruman the White," he marked the name with a bow of his head and with his hand upon his heart, "is indeed the essence of charity and goodwill, and he has bestowed unspeakably generous distinctions upon myself - I have been invited _twice_ to dine at Orthanc! Oh, I cannot put into words the grandeur of that fortress, but one should expect no less of the residence of such a personage as," his arm extended in a sweeping gesture that unfortunately knocked the contents of Mary's glass into her lap, "Saruman the White!"

"Quite so, I am sure," Mr. Bennet replied with admirable calm despite the commotion. "I see that you are very fortunate in your patron. But, of course, I must assume that the great Saruman the White finds himself equally fortunate in such a servant."

"Ah sir! My abilities, as meager and inconsequent as they may be-I flatter myself-are of no inconsiderable assistance to Saruman. He has told me many a time, as proceeds from his immeasurable goodness, that my presence in Isengard is a great comfort to him."

"I see. Interesting," Mr. Bennet said, throwing a wink towards Elizabeth, who had been hiding her smiling face behind a napkin.

"How very desolated he must have been to send you away such a great distance!" Mrs. Bennet unaffectedly observed. Elizabeth withdrew further behind her napkin.

"Indeed, madam," Mr. Collins agreed with a solemn nod. "But, as my dear patron condescendingly says, if I am more useful to him at such a great distance, the sacrifice must be made. However, the sacrifice need not be _entirely_ desolate."

As he spoke, Mr. Collins looked leeringly at Jane who sat across from him. Jane blushed deeply under Mr. Collins' bold gaze and would have shuddered in disgust if her sweet temperament had allowed it.

This silent exchange did not escape the notice of Mrs. Bennet, and when the soonest opportunity arose, she explained as delicately as could be expected that Jane would be very soon engaged. And so, naturally, his eye fell upon Elizabeth.

Jane was taking a turn in the shrubbery with Mary when Elizabeth burst upon them out of breath and with a look of desperation in her eyes. Kitty and Lydia followed soon after.

"My dear Jane, Mary," Elizabeth greeted as she recovered her breath and composure, "Shall we not all walk to Bree?"

"Indeed, yes! Let us all go!" Lydia insisted. "Rangers have been hard to come by of late, but Kitty and I can share. Can we not, Kitty?"

"If _that _is to be your errand, then _I_ shall not be of the party," Mary stated primly.

"So much the better! You would spoil our fun! Stay here and entertain Mr. Collins!" Kitty said.

Elizabeth ignored the arguing that ensued and, taking Jane's arm, led her towards the gate. The other three followed without ceasing their bickering.

"But are you well, Elizabeth?" Jane inquired with concern. "Perhaps you should rest this afternoon."

"I shall be quite well once we are off!" Elizabeth briskly replied.

The sisters had not walked five steps from the gate when they began to hear the pursuit of a great deal of huffing and puffing. Elizabeth groaned loudly and quickened her pace.

"My dear Cousin Elizabeth!" Mr. Collins called from the gate. "Ah, all my dear, young cousins! A most welcome surprise! Do allow me to escort you on your walk!"

As the profusely sweaty man approached, Kitty and Lydia shrieked and ran ahead towards Bree. Mr. Collins observed their flight with consternation.

"Is it common for the folk of Bree to allow their children to run wild through the countryside? I know Lord Saruman would most heartily disapprove of such behavior!" he said.

Elizabeth turned away to hide the annoyance that she was certain was clearly written on her face. Jane endeavored to pacify Mr. Collins, assuring him that her father, as a rule, did not permit such behavior in her younger sisters.

"Will you not join us, Mr. Collins?" Mary offered despite Elizabeth's horrified expression. "We are on our way to Bree to visit our Uncle Butterbur."

"I would be happy to accompany my young cousins on their little venture!" In what he felt was an admirably gallant gesture, Mr. Collins quickly took possession of Elizabeth's arm and led the way, fortunately not noticing her grimace. "If I am not mistaken, your Uncle Butterbur is an innkeeper? It is perhaps unfortunate that one so closely connected to you should be in trade, but fear not! I have the remarkable ability-I flatter myself-of adapting my manners to all levels of society. It is a necessary skill for one in my position, I assure you!"

"I can well believe it," Elizabeth replied somewhat absent-mindedly, for she was busily employed searching for a feasible excuse to free her arm from its odious captor.

When the small party arrived at _The Prancing Pony_, their ears were immediately afflicted with Kitty and Lydia's uproarious laughter. Chagrined, but not in the least surprised, Elizabeth spied her youngest sisters seated among a group of eager listeners near the fire at the far end of the room. At the center of the circle sat a man whom, according to his brown and green weatherworn raiment, Elizabeth assumed to be a Ranger. His visage did not have the grim appearance one would expect of a Ranger, though, and judging from the laughter his stories were evoking from his listeners, he seemed a much merrier sort. In fact, Elizabeth thought him rather handsome.

Seeing her Uncle Butterbur nearby, she at last extricated her arm from Mr. Collins' clammy grasp and hastened to him, intending to learn the identity of the stranger.

"Greetings niece! It is good to see you, but I've no time for chitchat. I have had a great deal of business this week and not a moment for sitting! I do hope you have come to deal with those sisters of yours. Customers always complain about that shrill giggling of theirs, and they are none too kind to the dwarf-folk that come through, always poking fun at their beards and provoking their short tempers. And it's a wonder that Rangers still insist on coming, for those silly girls have run off the last three with their fawning! …Eh? Aye, I believe that fellow _is _a Ranger, and the most agreeable one that's been seen in these parts! No, I do not know his name, but you may ask yourself this evening. A large supper is being served, and your sisters are determined to stay because the Ranger declares he will join the party. Not to worry, I'll have Nob see you all home this evening. - Nob! Make up some tea for my nieces! No, don't bother about those two. They look too distracted for tea. - Well, I must be off, what with the great many people thinking I will have spare rooms this evening, and supper time is nigh. You and Jane will stay, will you not? I could not bear to be left with your sisters on my hands! I'm a busy man, as I've often reminded them in vain. How does my sister? Her nerves do not try her too often, I trust? Who is that stout fellow you came in with? I don't like the look of him. Needs a bit of soap and water, if you take my meaning…"

At that moment, the said fellow stepped closely behind Elizabeth and loudly cleared his throat. Mr. Butterbur crossed his arms and eyed him severely, clearly not liking the man's close proximity to his favorite niece.

Elizabeth understood Mr. Collins' none too subtle hint and said, "Uncle, this is my father's cousin, Mr. Collins. He has journeyed from the South to pay his respects to my father. Mr. Collins, my Uncle Butterbur."

"Dear sir, it is a great pleasure to meet any relation of my dear Cousin Elizabeth's. I am most charmed by your quaint establishment here. In fact, it puts me in mind of a guardhouse situated by the gates of Orthanc, the magnificent abode of my patron. No doubt a worldly man such as yourself has heard of the illustrious name of Saruman the White of Isengard?…"

Elizabeth left her uncle and cousin to exhaust each other with their powers of oration and found a seat outside the circle of listeners. The Ranger smiled when he noticed her arrival, and Elizabeth could not help blushing.

Lydia turned around in annoyance to see who had diverted the attention of her newest favorite and, seeing it was only one of her elder sisters, exclaimed, "Oh Elizabeth! My darling Ranger here has been telling us the most droll stories!"

"And he must repeat them all for you!" Kitty insisted with a pout. "You will, won't you Wickham?"

Wickham smiled at their eagerness and said, "I will be happy to oblige."


	5. Chapter 5

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part V

By Lillian C.

The large supper Mr. Butterbur had prepared proved to be a smaller affair than expected. Upon spying the younger Bennet girls, the few dwarves at _The_ _Prancing Pony_ that evening opted not to join. They had little to fear anyhow. Kitty and Lydia's attentions would not be diverted from their charming Ranger.

When dinner was served, the girls (and Mr. Collins) were vexed to find that Wickham had chosen the seat next to Elizabeth. When Elizabeth noticed this, she was glad for the opportunity to speak to the man without her sisters' incessant prodding.

"Your sisters are very eager for stories, Miss Bennet, and I was hard pressed to satisfy them," Wickham said to Elizabeth in a low voice.

She chuckled and replied, "Yes, I am well acquainted with their passions, which is why I admire you so much at this moment. Your escape from their clutches must have been no easy feat!"

Wickham laughed softly. "And I was amused by their hasty, and I must say _ironic_, assumption that I am a Ranger. I am regrettably not of their number, but perhaps I should have been," he said with a wistful smile.

Elizabeth eyed him with curiosity but chose not to inquire into his meaning. "Please excuse my sisters, sir. I am afraid they tend to be very impertinent among company."

"I found them to be amiable, though, as I find all the people of Bree."

"I am glad to hear it. _Most_ people who venture here are of your opinion," Elizabeth said with a slight frown.

Wickham studied her a moment and casually said, "Your sisters related to me much of the current affairs of Bree, and I found one piece of information to be particularly interesting: that a lord of Elves is residing nearby at Netherfield. Have you seen him?"

"Yes, I have seen much of him. Darcë is his name, but a man called Binglorn is the one who has actually taken the house-" Elizabeth noticed Wickham start upon hearing the name of the elf lord, "Do you know of either of them?"

"I know Darcë very well. He was a dear friend of my father when he lived."

Elizabeth looked at Wickham in surprise and was much relieved that she had not declared her unfavorable opinion of the elf lord. She wondered how his father could have become a 'dear friend' of the proud Darcë. "And was this great friendship between Darcë and your father extended to you?"

"No, unfortunately. In fact…he has done me great wrong," Wickham gravely replied.

Elizabeth gasped in surprise. "Has he? To tell the truth, I found him to be proud and disagreeable, but I never imagined that- "

"That he would be capable of an act of malice?" Wickham smiled grimly. "Many of his kind are, you know. _His_ kindred in particular. One should not be fooled by their fair semblance."

Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully, finding Wickham's account of Elves to be at odds with her father's; but she could not forget that her own observations of Darcë's behavior supported Wickham's statements.

"Forgive my boldness, but may I ask what wrong Darcë has done you?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

Wickham did not respond at first, as the servers were just entering with the food. When the table had been laid he said quietly, "There is nothing to forgive. It is probably better that you know of this. My father was a Ranger, and he lived in Imladris, or Rivendell, as it is often called. When I was but a lad, he was mortally injured while pursuing a band of orcs in the mountains. Darcë was with him at the last, and before he died, my father exacted from him a promise that he would look after me and see to it that I was made a Ranger. Though for a while Darcë kept his promise, I found him to be a cold and distant guardian. Perhaps he resented me because his promise kept him from returning to his home at the Havens. I never knew for certain. Whatever the reason for his indifference, I was not prepared for what came to pass a decade later."

"What happened?" Elizabeth inquired breathlessly.

"Darcë accompanied me on my first and only journey with the Rangers. I was eighteen at the time. Our company was small because our errand was not pressing; but this proved ill, for a large company of orcs came upon us at unawares, and we were easily overcome. Our comrades for the most part were slaughtered. Darcë fled with the few remaining survivors - abandoning me in the process. At first I feared that my father's fate would be mine, but chance was kind and I escaped. I did not stray far from the area, though, for I yet had hope that Darcë would return for me. He did not. When at last I found my way back to Imladris, I was not welcomed. I soon discovered that Darcë had turned Master Elrond and all the people against me. So, as you may have guessed, I henceforth had to make my own way in the world."

Elizabeth could not speak for some time, so shocked was she at Wickham's tale. She never expected that her ill opinion of Darcë would be so confirmed.

At last she said, "Malicious does not begin to describe the evils Darcë has done you! I wonder that you could be so calm when the villain is so near!"

Wickham shrugged and said, "For the sake of my father's memory, I cannot think of vengeance. But I do not ask to be pitied! My present situation is prosperous, and I now find myself in the most agreeable society I have ever met."

Elizabeth comprehended his meaning and favored him with a sincere, sympathetic smile. Kitty and Lydia looked upon the two with envy, and Mr. Collins disconsolately picked at his food, occasionally throwing what he hoped were threatening glares in Wickham's direction.

That evening, Elizabeth confided to Jane all that Wickham had told her. Jane offered her usual attentive ear but was not as ready as her sister to condemn Binglorn's dearest friend.

"Elizabeth, consider. Wickham is an acquaintance of but a day," Jane admonished. "Is it wise to so hastily place your trust in his claims?"

"If you had heard him speak, you would believe as I do!" Elizabeth protested. "The grief I saw in his eyes when he spoke of the loss of his father and of Darcë's betrayal could not have been affected!"

"No, I cannot believe that Binglorn would befriend himself to a person capable of such meanness - or that any elf could be so cruel at all!"

"Wickham does not find the latter so difficult to believe, and neither do I. Darcë's behavior confirms it."

Jane sighed helplessly at her sister's obstinacy. "Well, say what you will. I cannot think so ill of Darcë, but neither will I choose to think ill of Wickham. I believe some unfortunate misunderstanding must have occurred to cause the severance of their connection."

Elizabeth helplessly sighed in her turn, having expected no less of her gentle sister.

Smiling at the serious, determined expression upon Elizabeth's face, Jane embraced her sister and bade her return to bed. Deep within, Jane knew that no amount of wise counsel would dissuade Elizabeth from holding fast to her opinions, and that time and experience alone would soften them.

The day following Elizabeth's encounter with Wickham brought Binglorn and Darcë to Longbourn with a personal invitation to the Netherfield Ball. Naturally, their arrival caused an uproar that forced Mr. Bennet into hiding. Mrs. Bennet's happiness on the occasion would have been complete save that Jane had chosen to wear one of her older frocks that day.

Elizabeth had been out walking when man and elf had arrived, and she returned to the house just as tea was being served. Lydia, who was the first to see her when she entered the drawing room, said in a raised voice, "Oh Binglorn! Do invite our dear Wickham to your ball! _Elizabeth_ will certainly come if you can ensure his attendance! Will she not Kitty?"

Kitty sputtered over her tea while Elizabeth and Jane blushed at their sister's impropriety. Elizabeth glanced at Darcë in time to see his features considerably darken at the mention of Wickham, but she turned away at once when his keen eyes met hers.

"I will see what I can do, Miss Lydia," Binglorn replied uncertainly, looking questioningly towards his friend.

After Binglorn and Darcë had taken their leave, Elizabeth and Jane severely scolded their youngest sister, and Mary occasionally recited a proverb, but to no avail. They were rewarded with little more than bouts of giggles.

"I myself will take great pleasure in this event," Mr. Collins said, "for Binglorn appears to be a worthy, respectable fellow and his friend a most noble character indeed! I am sure that Lord Saruman would not object to my cultivating such acquaintances. And, I flatter myself, I will prove to be a worthy partner for _all _my fair cousins!"

Lydia immediately ceased her giggling and exchanged a look of pure horror with Kitty. Elizabeth began to partake of their feelings when she saw Mr. Collins purposely make his way to her side.

"I will now take the opportunity of claiming _your_ hand, my dear Cousin Elizabeth, for the first dance!" he declared as he grasped her hands with a grotesque simper.

Having the image of her being led onto the dance floor by Mr. Collins vivid in her mind, Elizabeth wished desperately that Binglorn _would_ see to it that Wickham was invited to the ball. But then, she reasoned that Darcë would surely keep Binglorn from doing so, therefore any hope that she might enjoy the evening would be futile.

Allowing for the possibility that she was mistaken and that she might be destined to be Wickham's dance partner that evening, Elizabeth dressed with great care for the ball. She had selected an ivory gown, as Jane often commented that she looked very well in that color, and had her dark curls pulled up with ribbon and strands of delicate white blossoms. Unfortunately, Mr. Collins noticed this and did not scruple to assume that her pains were for his sake. After Mrs. Bennet had approved the dress of each of her daughters and had thrice ordered Jane to change her gown, the Bennet family set out for Netherfield.

As their carriage entered the gates of Netherfield, Elizabeth looked out and saw the house and surrounding trees lit with a multitude of gold and silver lamps. People dressed in their finest frocks milled about the grounds, the sound of their laughter a gentle accompaniment to the night wind.

Mr. Bennet looked upon the scene as well and smiled.

"Darcë procured those lamps, I imagine," he whispered to Elizabeth. "It was his kindred who first developed the art of their construction."

Elizabeth nodded mutely in response to her father's information. She really had no desire to sully the evening with a discussion of _his_ attributes.

Binglorn hailed them immediately when they entered the great hall, and Elizabeth was pleased to see that Jane received the majority of his attentions. In fact, Binglorn seemed to forget that a steady stream of guests followed the Bennets and escorted Jane to the ballroom.

At that moment, Mr. Collins reminded Elizabeth of his odious presence by unceremoniously taking her arm and following Binglorn and Jane. Elizabeth did not attend to his recitation of compliments, her attention instead being employed with the search for Wickham. Though she had frequently counseled herself that his presence was unlikely, she was nonetheless disappointed when she did not see him; and Mr. Collins did not lift her spirits by insisting on being her partner throughout the evening.

_At least I do not see Darcë anywhere. He probably managed to excuse himself from the affair. So much the better, I doubt I could be even remotely civil to him this evening,_ she thought morosely.

But Darcë _was_ present; and in spite of all the objections he continually forced himself to consider, his eyes could not stray away from the vision in white that had appeared on the opposite side of the ballroom. Indeed, her image had never ceased to accost him ever since he first beheld her at the Bree assembly. It was with a lesser extent of feeling that he regarded the man at her side. Darcë had much ado to keep himself from extricating her - in a proper manner, of course - from his grasp, but Mr. Butterbur fortunately approached them and did the deed himself.

"I have a reason for claiming your attention, Niece, but for the life of me, I cannot remember it!" Mr. Butterbur said. "It has to do with that one fellow…the Ranger…"

"Wickham?" Elizabeth asked eagerly.

"The very name I was trying to think of! But why did I think of him? Oh, how am I to know? I tell you, it has been a hard week, and I should have known better than to accept Binglorn's invitation! What has a busy man like myself to do at a ball? I usually leave such affairs to your mother. She has a greater affinity for them. Why does that cousin of your father's hang about so officiously? Surely you're too smart a girl to encourage the likes of him!"

"But Uncle, what of Wickham?"

"Wickham? The Ranger? Oh, of course, the message! It at last comes to me! I am to give you and your sisters his apologies as he has been prevented from attending the ball. He shan't miss much, I dare say, though you girls do look very well this evening; but then you hardly need a fancy dress to appear lovely. It is a good thing that you all inherited your mother's looks. I do not believe you would have faired so well otherwise! There goes that man again! Sir, do you have some business with us?"

Mr. Collins appeared quite taken aback at Mr. Butterbur's abrupt address and said, "Dear sir! Pardon my intrusion, but your niece has most kindly bestowed upon myself the honor of her hand for the first dance, and I seek to claim it."

Mr. Butterbur looked uncertainly from his niece to the simpering little man before him and shook his head. "I suppose it is no business of mine whom my nieces choose to dance with!"

Mr. Collins bowed low and proceeded to lead a very sullen Elizabeth to the line of dancers that was forming in the center of the room. As she turned to face her partner, Elizabeth saw Darcë for the first time, and her cheeks crimsoned in anger. Her only consolation at that time was seeing that Jane and Binglorn would lead the first dance.

Then, all her emotions fell away as the loveliest sounds Elizabeth had ever heard drifted through the ballroom and mingled with the forming line of dancers. She turned in astonishment towards the music's source and beheld a quintet of elven minstrels. Not even her newly formed prejudice against their kind prevented her from being momentarily lost in the enchantment of their art.

But not even the most skilled elven minstrels could keep Elizabeth from noticing Mr. Collins' foot upon her own. From that moment, all notions of enchantment were quite lost upon her as she was pushed and pulled through all the steps of the dance. When the painful experience finally ended, Elizabeth noticed with dismay that the hem of her frock was torn.

_Well, perhaps I look enough of a casualty to discourage Mr. Collins from demanding a second dance,_ Elizabeth thought as she made her way to where Charlotte Lucas stood. She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned and saw that Mr. Collins was engaged with Mary a good distance away.

"My dear Elizabeth," Charlotte whispered, "_what_ were you dancing with?"

"A _distant_ cousin of my father's as well as the man who will inherit Longbourn," Elizabeth replied with a scowl.

"And he is trying to attach himself to you," Charlotte observed thoughtfully. "Does he know he has a rival?"

"Rival? What are you talking about? When considering the likes of Mr. Collins, _anyone_ could be considered a rival!"

Charlotte laughed at her friend's rejoinder and whispered, "Hush, Elizabeth! Speak more softly! The person in question is just behind us!"

With a dramatic movement, Elizabeth turned on her heel and then laughed heartily upon seeing to whom Charlotte was alluding.

"Dear Charlotte! I am in desperate need of amusement this evening, so pray tell me what led you to conclude that I have an admirer in one who considers me only _tolerable_."

"I will have you know that I considered his unfortunate remark before I came to my conclusion," Charlotte insisted with a teasing smile, "and I found it hard to believe that any noble, cultured being would wish to spend such an abundance of time gazing at what he thinks is only _tolerable_!"

Elizabeth shrugged. "He delights in finding fault with others, and I must be the object of his disdain for the evening. Besides, you have not considered everything, because you do not know everything there is to consider!"

"What do you mean?"

In a lowered voice, Elizabeth related to her friend all that Wickham had revealed to her, enumerating every particular that made Darcë appear to the most disadvantage. Charlotte's face became gradually more solemn as she listened to her.

"Wickham's tale is shocking, but…how can you be certain it is not no more than a tale? Darcë is less a stranger here than Wickham. Should we not give Darcë the benefit of the doubt?" Charlotte asked.

Elizabeth sighed in frustration. "You speak as Jane did. If Darcë can contradict it, then so be it! Until then, my opinions of both are fixed."

"Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth jumped at the sound of her name and looked up to see the subject of her and Charlotte's debate standing before them. Elizabeth curtsied in acknowledgement of the elf lord while ignoring Charlotte's pointed look.

"I would be very happy if you would join me for the next dance, Miss Bennet," Darcë said with a smile Charlotte did not doubt was genuine.


	6. Chapter 6

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part VI

By: Lillian C.

Elizabeth was so flustered by Darcë's unexpected application that she murmured her thanks without quite knowing what she was about. Darcë, considering this sufficient encouragement, held aloft his hand, and Elizabeth reluctantly accepted it, as no reasonable forms of refusal came to mind. She flushed with vexation when she saw how her hand trembled as it was enveloped by his larger one.

Charlotte, who observed this exchange with calculating eyes, was determined to keep to her conclusions, however much her friend may protest. _After all, it has surely happened before,_ Charlotte thought. _I am fairly certain I heard a tale somewhere of such an affair._

And so, once more that evening, the unfortunate Elizabeth found herself on the dance floor without any expectation that she would spend the minutes that would follow in a pleasant manner. Of course, she did not expect that Darcë would prove to be the clumsy oaf that her former partner had been. In fact, when the music began, he led her through the first steps and turns with the natural grace of a well-practiced dancer. Elizabeth almost admitted to herself that she was _pleasantly _surprised. However, this easy grace was all that Darcë had to recommend him as a dance partner, for he seemed determined to proceed without saying a word.

His partner endured his silence as long as she could (which was not very long) before she said, "I believe I once heard you say you did not enjoy balls."

"I admit that, as a rule, I do not. However, it does not necessarily follow that I would never take pleasure in a dance."

"Then, I may assume that your apparent mastery of the art of dancing proceeds from experience after all?" Elizabeth inquired with an arch smile.

"I have attended my fair share of dances, Miss Bennet, but perhaps it is the superior skill of one's partner that is the means of affecting one's own skill as a dancer."

Elizabeth, confused at his gallantry, said, "Your flattery is in vain, my lord. As I have already been informed of your true nature, I can sincerely say that it does not become you."

Darcë's expression darkened considerably, leaving Elizabeth without a doubt that he understood whom her informer was. Elizabeth decided to venture further.

"My sisters and I have lately been fortunate to meet one who claims to be an old acquaintance of yours."

When Darcë did not respond, she said, "Oddly enough, we took him for a Ranger at first. He made it clear, however, that he is not of the Rangers, though perhaps it should have been otherwise. Indeed, I could not help feeling pity for his plight, made desperate because he placed his confidence where it was not deserved."

Darcë frowned and said, "I hope it is with the utmost care that you choose where to place _your_ confidence, for the world is inhabited by many who would deceive."

"True," Elizabeth observed, vexed at his insinuation, "and I pride myself in my ability to find them out."

"Then you are fortunate, Miss Bennet," Darcë curtly replied.

They finished the dance in thoughtful silence, each wishing to say more but neither daring to do so, and parted with mutual dissatisfaction; but the heart of Darcë would not allow him to be displeased with Elizabeth, and his anger was directed towards another.

When Darcë returned Elizabeth to Charlotte's side, the latter asked, "Well, dear, was the experience as wretched as you anticipated?"

Elizabeth looked at Charlotte thoughtfully and said, "Truthfully, I do not know. I know not what to make of him most of the time. It does not matter though. I shall not make the mistake of agreeing to dance with him again."

Charlotte sighed wearily and led the way to the dining hall, as supper had just been announced.

At supper, Mr. Collins once again made his way to Elizabeth's side and procured a seat next to her at the table, an arrangement that left Elizabeth without an appetite. Charlotte was kind enough to sit on Elizabeth's other side and attempt to divert his attentions from Elizabeth.

During the brief moments when Mr. Collins was not pestering her, Elizabeth regarded her elder sister who was seated further down the table at Binglorn's right. Mrs. Bennet unluckily noticed this as well and did not scruple making known her hopes in a most audible fashion. Elizabeth, who being seated across from her could hear her boasts with perfect clarity, vainly tried to steer her mother towards another topic of conversation. Her mother would not understand her, though. What was worse was that Darcë had chosen the seat next to Mrs. Bennet. Though he appeared not to listen, Elizabeth did not mistake the distaste that shone in his eyes. Thankfully, Jane and Binglorn were too much engaged with each other to notice.

Lydia was the one who eventually disturbed the pair. She sprung upon them with Kitty following close behind.

"What are you two talking of so secretly?" Lydia demanded.

Jane and Binglorn's faces simultaneously turned a deep shade of red. Jane looked down in shame, but Binglorn soon recovered and said, "Good evening, Miss Lydia. I hope you are enjoying yourself!"

"Not at all! Kitty and I have not been able to find our dear Wickham anywhere! I know he must have been invited, so where have you hidden him? Our sister, Elizabeth has especially been hoping to see him!"

Upon hearing the latter, Darcë abruptly rose from the table and quitted the room. His exit was witnessed by few, however, as most eyes were directed towards the head of the table.

"I do apologize, Miss Lydia, but Wickham could not be found when sought for. Perhaps it would please you to hear some music? I am sure my elven friends would be willing to delight us once more with a song!"

Lydia was at once appeased, for she delighted in any opportunity for dancing, and she promptly left Binglorn in search of a partner.

Strangely enough, the music that soon began was not the lovely melodies that had previously enchanted their ears but strains of some simple ballad accompanied by a voice that painfully labored to reach the heights of a soprano. With the deepest mortification, Elizabeth and Jane found themselves familiar with the air and turned to see that their sister Mary, upon hearing a request for music, had hurried ahead of the elven minstrels, seized one of their harps and was playing upon it. The elves appeared not to know whether to be offended at Mary's impertinence or take pity on her sad lack of talent.

Elizabeth felt that she had reached the limit of what she could endure. Her younger sisters seemed absolutely determined to expose themselves. Her mother was of course oblivious to the impropriety of her sisters' actions, and her father appeared to be merely amused by them. Therefore, she could do little more than sit and watch the people around her laugh at her family's expense.

Outside, Mary's singing reached Darcë's ears, but he remarkably failed to notice it. He was preoccupied with his own internal struggle. He had made more than one discovery that evening that called for quick action.

After hearing Mrs. Bennet's comments, he had made a point of watching Binglorn and Miss Bennet together, and he came to the conclusion that it seemed likely his friend would soon enmesh himself in a difficult situation. Darcë did not intend to allow that to happen.

Darcë was also concerned with the danger his own feelings would pose to himself if he did not make a decision soon. He had long since admitted to himself the extent of his regard for Elizabeth Bennet, but this admittance did nothing to lessen his fear of it. As he gazed upward at Eärendil's star, his face assumed a look of grim determination. His decision was made.

As one would expect of the night following a ball, most of Longbourn's inhabitants were still asleep long after the sun had risen. Mr. Bennet, ever the early riser, savored this rare occasion of peace and quiet with a favorite book and a sip of his treasured miruvor. His morning passed so agreeably that he fancied he might not object to many more balls in the future. All the same, he welcomed his second eldest daughter with a warm smile when she entered his library and intruded upon his solitude. It is often seen, though, that the best of things are of short duration, and the companionable silence of father and daughter was no exception.

"ELIZABETH! ELIZABETH! YOU ARE WANTED IMMEDIATELY! Oh, where has that wretched girl hid herself? ELIZABETH!"

Mr. Bennet listened to his wife's shrieking with an air of calm, but he turned to Elizabeth with pleading eyes and said, "My dear, do go see if you can put a stop to that noise."

Elizabeth frowned in annoyance and left the security of her father's library.

"I will be here if I am needed," Mr. Bennet called after her (quite unnecessarily, of course).

Following her mother's cries into the drawing room, Elizabeth came face to face with her and Mr. Collins, each wearing a self-satisfied smile. She looked between the two suspiciously and regretted not following her first instinct of ignoring her mother's summons and escaping outdoors. Mrs. Bennet took her daughters hands and kissed her cheek.

"My dear, _dear_ girl. I want you to sit here and listen to what Mr. Collins has to say to you."

Elizabeth watched with dismay as her mother turned to leave the room and called, "Mama, you need not leave! Mr. Collins cannot have- "

"Hush, silly girl, and stay where you are!" Mrs. Bennet commanded as she shut the door behind her.

Sighing deeply, Elizabeth turned to face Mr. Collins. The trepidation she felt as she stood alone to receive the addresses of the most odious of men was no doubt comparable to what Fingolfin, the High Elven King of old, felt upon daring to face Morgoth himself. But unlike that mighty warrior, Elizabeth was left unarmed and could only sit resignedly and await her doom.

"Miss Elizabeth, my _dear_ cousin," Mr. Collins began, "you cannot but have noticed the fervent regard I have felt for you from the first moment - er, _almost_ from the first moment of having met you; and considering how I am to inherit your father's estate, I think it most prudent that we marry. Lord Saruman the White himself recommended that I choose a wife from among the ladies of Longbourn _and_ promised to welcome her with honor should I choose to bring her to Isengard. With such great considerations, your prospects as my wife, I flatter myself, are infinitely superior to all others you may have, therefore I am certain you will not hesitate to accept my hand."

The face of Mr. Collins' beloved had become an alarming shade of red by the time he completed his speech, but what he took to be the lovely blush of modesty was actually the affect of a great deal of suppressed laughter. As Elizabeth was in no condition to give a verbal response, Mr. Collins believed himself answered in the affirmative and proceeded to congratulate himself on the success of his suit.

"Dear Elizabeth, you are quite as intelligent as you are beautiful, as is evident by your choice in my favor!" Mr. Collins gushed as he took her hand. "That being decided, I will now relate the good news to your worthy parents!"

Elizabeth lost all sense of amusement in the situation when she saw how pitifully convinced Mr. Collins was of his victory over her heart.

"Sir!" Elizabeth called before he had left the room. "You are a bit hasty, as I have yet to make an answer! I thank you for your proposal, but I cannot accept it."

Unfortunately, this firm refusal did not seem to make an impression on the man, for he turned to regard her with a knowing smile saying, "Your feigned reluctance is most charming, my dear, though I hope it will be dispelled ere we meet at the alter!"

"You grossly misunderstand me, sir! Please take my refusal seriously, for I meant every word! Though I do not doubt your respectability, I cannot -I _will not_- accept your hand!"

"Nay, dearest, I understand! And may I say that your feminine modesty does you great credit. You will be a great asset to me, and I daresay Lord Saruman will applaud my choice!"

Feeling her temper rise at Mr. Collins' persistent absurdity, Elizabeth fled his presence in disgust and returned to the library where she found her father much as she had left him.

"I thank you, child. I have not heard a peep in the last five minutes at least," Mr. Bennet said as he turned a page in his book.

Though by no means a particularly intelligent sort, Mrs. Bennet found it less difficult than Mr. Collins to believe that Elizabeth had refused his proposal. Her ire upon discovering it reached the ears of every living creature within a ten-mile range of Longbourn and actually convinced a certain few that an army of Ring Wraiths was upon them. (If it had been so, it may be said that the situation would not have been as dire. After all, a Ring Wraith habitually prefers to attack in the dead of night in some dark, lonely place; and a Mrs. Bennet would just as soon attack in broad daylight as any other time, as long as an eligible bachelor was within reach!)

It did not take long after Mr. Collins was convinced of the hopelessness of his suit for him to come to the conclusion that his dear Lord Saruman the White surely could not be getting on without him. Within a day following this realization, Mr. Collins was hastening south upon his unfortunate steed, and a majority of the Bennet family was breathing sighs of relief. Thus, Saruman's cunning plan to rid himself of one of his more officious servants came to naught.

(Of course the reader familiar with Jane Austen's story will note that Mr. Collins' marital fate -or lack thereof- is a significant change. I am sorry, but I just could not do what Jane Austen did to poor Charlotte!)

A week had passed since the Netherfield Ball when Kitty and Lydia returned from an afternoon in town with the news that Binglorn and Darcë had left the region with no intention of returning in the near future. Most everyone was surprised and disturbed at the news, for different reasons. Elizabeth was pained for Jane's sake. Though Jane strove to conceal her feelings, Elizabeth was convinced her sister was deeply hurt that Binglorn had left without a word. Mrs. Bennet, of course, could be counted on to lament the loss of any prospective suitor. But more than anyone else, Mr. Bennet was uneasy about the abrupt departure, and when Kitty and Lydia had finished their tale, he retired to his library to write some letters.

"Everyone is leaving Bree these days! There have been no Rangers since before the ball!" Kitty whined.

"And there has been no word from Wickham," Lydia said as she eyed Elizabeth thoughtfully, "unless Elizabeth knows something we do not!"

Elizabeth chose to ignore this comment and went upstairs in search of Jane, who had disappeared when Binglorn's departure was first revealed. She tapped lightly upon Jane's door and received permission to enter.

"How are you, Jane?" Elizabeth asked tenderly.

"It matters not, Elizabeth," she whispered. "I _shall_ be well and content, as I was before. Please do not be concerned for my sake. If I was mistaken about Binglorn's feelings, then I am to blame for it. And I believe I _was_ mistaken."

"I do not believe that!" Elizabeth cried. "It cannot be doubted that Binglorn is very much in love with you! If anything, it is Darcë who has convinced him to leave, no doubt having had enough of lowly mortals. I am sure that once Binglorn has learned not to rely so much on the opinion of his _friend_, he will realize his mistake and return."

Jane regarded her sister sadly and said, "So you are still determined to think the worst of Binglorn's friend? I simply cannot imagine him as the villain you described. Well, whatever the part he has played, his intentions could not have been wrong."

Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. "Believe what you will, Jane. There can be no real harm in believing the best of everyone. I would have you know that I often envy you this."

Jane answered with a soft smile but turned away to hide the tears that had been threatening to reveal themselves. Elizabeth took the hint and bade her sister goodnight.

Summer reached Eriador soon after, but it offered no encouragement for the hopes that had been formed in the spring. Tidings of Binglorn never came, and Mrs. Bennet began once more to fret over the desolate futures of her daughters. Jane maintained her cheerful countenance as well as she could, but Elizabeth could always sense her inner melancholy. Elizabeth herself had to contend with her own disappointment. Wickham never returned to Bree. Though the acquaintance of less than a day, she could not forget the favorable impression he had made on her. She tried to lift her spirits with hopes that Wickham's fortune may take a turn for the better. With the disappearance of all the prospective suitors near Bree, the Rangers seemed to have disappeared as well. Thus, Kitty and Lydia became quite as quarrelsome as their mother and bemoaned the lack of diversion in their lives. Mary was perhaps the only one blessed with a heart unaffected by the dark moods that had infected Longbourn, for she found many opportunities for sermonizing to her younger sisters.

Mr. Bennet was not about to endure his wife's despondence any more than necessary and deemed that the time was right to go on an extended adventure. Months earlier, Gandalf had extended an invitation to him to go to Rivendell, and he had yet to accept. In view of recent events related to Binglorn and the Rangers (and not to mention the high concentration of female emotions that had pervaded his house), he thought it prudent to take Gandalf and Master Elrond up on their offer at once.

_And I think I will at last take pity on poor Elizabeth by taking her along. She has played the part of the provincial country lass long enough, and it never became her,_ Mr. Bennet considered with a chuckle.


	7. Chapter 7

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part VII

By: Lillian C.

Needless to say, the prospect of a journey with her father was more than sufficient to buoy up Elizabeth's spirits. It was of small import to her where their destination might be, which was fortunate as Mr. Bennet chose not to disclose it. His secrecy puzzled Elizabeth, but she was so excited at the news that she would be allowed to step beyond the confines of her small world that she gave little heed to it.

Jane was extremely dismayed at the thought of being indefinitely separated from her favorite sister, who had been her only solace during the previous months of waiting and uncertainty. Elizabeth would have pleaded to her parents to allow Jane to come along, but Mrs. Bennet had made it known from the first that she would not hear of any of her other daughters wandering about in the Wild and certainly not her dearest Jane.

"Think of how the rugged country would spoil her looks! Elizabeth, to be sure, has little to lose on that score, but oh dear Jane! The thought is horrid beyond comprehension! Oh, my nerves!" Mrs. Bennet had cried.

During her last night at Longbourn, Elizabeth remained in Jane's room at the earnest request of the latter. Despite her father's advising her to get plenty of sleep as he planned for them to leave well before sunrise, Elizabeth and Jane kept vigil together well past midnight. The farewells that the family had shared earlier that evening could scarcely suffice between two sisters as dear to each other as these were.

"Will you be alright? I will not be here to guard you from Mother, you know. You will have to defend yourself for a while," Elizabeth teased.

"I daresay I will get on very well. I will feel the loss of your presence every minute, but I am happy that your dearest wish has been granted. And perhaps your absence will teach you to be fonder of your home?" Jane suggested smilingly.

"Or fonder of _you_. Dearest Jane, I will think of you often and miss you terribly. Most of all, I will fear for your happiness, as I do now. You always deny it, Jane, but I never believe you. You are not happy."

Jane shrugged and said, "I will be when you return. That is enough."

"But you still think of him."

Jane did not meet Elizabeth's eyes, but she conceded with a slight nod.

"You know, Mother often said that Binglorn would surely return in the spring," Jane said, "and though I professed otherwise, I allowed that to be my hope. I was foolish. Spring has passed, and he has not come, so I am resolved to think of him no more."

"Well, he did not first come to Bree in the spring, did he?" Elizabeth pointed out.

"Enough, Elizabeth. No more."

"Very well, but if he is not by your side when I return, I will denounce him as the stupidest of men!"

"Hush, Lizzy!" Jane scolded, suddenly becoming the older sister. "It is high time you went to sleep!"

Rather than give in to her first impulse and throw a pillow at her uncharacteristically imperious sister, Elizabeth threw her arms around her and whispered, "I know not whether I will be able to leave you."

"Of course you will, silly," Jane said, her voice trembling with unshed tears, "and I will let you go. But do not expect such lenience the next time you decide to become the great adventurer!"

Elizabeth laughed shakily and reluctantly endeavored to sleep.

_Has the journey begun already? I do not even remember when it started! _

From her position on the rock, Elizabeth gazed forward at the most beautiful sight she had ever beheld. The dark blue sea stretched onward until it mingled with a sea of scarlet. _But I have never seen the sea!_ To her left, she saw a ship waiting at the dock. An assembly of people _elves? _stood upon the dock and watched as others boarded the ship. She heard the sound of their farewells as a sorrowful music, and tears stung her eyes. Her gaze then shifted to a lone figure standing on the shore before her who seemed to also be observing the scene. The sun prevented her from distinguishing his features, but by his movements she knew he turned to look upon her. He regarded her for some time, then raised his hand up to her. _What does he want?_ Elizabeth watched him uncertainly. From the corner of her eye, she saw the ship begin to move from the dock. The voices of those left behind gradually became silent until naught was heard but the waves _like wind through the trees_. The figure _elf?_, perhaps believing Elizabeth could not _would not_ move from her rock, began to make his way toward her. She would have stepped forward to meet him but for the sound of a familiar voice that called to her from behind.

"Elizabeth! Come back! Elizabeth!"

It was her father, but she did not obey him. She did not want to obey him. _Why? Father!_

"Don't go, Elizabeth!"

_I won't! _But her heart cried out in defiance and released her feet from their invisible bonds. The figure ceased its progress and _pleadingly? _raised both arms to her. She did not hesitate _Stop! _to run into them. As his warmth _Who are you?_ surrounded her, she became deaf to her father's pleas.

Then, the sun disappeared, and darkness enveloped them both.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth murmured.

Jane looked upon her sister with concern, debating whether to arouse her from her much needed, though troubled slumber. However, Elizabeth soon became quiet, and her face assumed an expression of content, almost smiling tranquility. Jane sighed in relief. Kissing her sister's brow, she returned to sleep.

A dark, silent, and empty Longbourn was deeply unsettling to Elizabeth. She felt as if she had awakened to find herself in a different house altogether. Even Jane, who was still soundly asleep when she left her, appeared alien to her. It seemed as if her own home was rejecting her, as if it knew she did not wish to remain there.

Elizabeth pushed away these unpleasant thoughts as she shouldered her pack. Her father followed suit with a bit more of a struggle, his burden undoubtedly twice as heavy as hers. Elizabeth chuckled as she watched him.

"Tell me, Father, exactly what portion of the contents of your pack is comprised of books, papers…"

"I'll have none of your impertinence on this journey, Child!" Mr. Bennet scolded with a wink. "Come, let us away ere your mother hears us."

And so, Father and Daughter began their adventure. Mr. Bennet, not wishing to cut through Bree to get to the East-West Road, chose a rarely frequented path that ran between the town and Chetwood and would lead them to the Road at a point just east of Bree. Taking this path, the pair arrived at the Road two hours after sunrise.

Mr. Bennet stopped at the edge of the Road and turned to his daughter. "Here, Elizabeth, we bid farewell to the world of security, civility, and decent food and enter the Wild. From this point, extreme caution is required at all times, for one does not know what he will meet upon the East-West Road. Trolls, temperamental dwarves, dragons, incoherent elves, goblins: anything is possible. The Road is not quite as safe as it was when I was a lad."

"It sounds truly delightful!" Elizabeth exclaimed with a girlish grin as she proceeded to lead the way. "Shall we continue?"

Mr. Bennet chuckled and followed after her. _A daughter after my own heart! _

"By the way, Sir," Elizabeth said, "do you not think it is now safe to reveal our mysterious destination?"

Mr. Bennet looked about him with affected wariness and whispered, "I suppose nothing dreadful will happen if I take the risk of disclosing this information. Your mother's ears are sharp, but I think we our well out of her range. We are going to Rivendell."

Elizabeth looked at her father in shock. "Rivendell?"

"Yes, you know. I have certainly told you of Elrond's house more than once. I was invited to come some time ago and never accepted the invitation."

Elizabeth walked on in stunned silence. She did not know what to think about visiting Wickham's childhood home and meeting the people who had turned him away. How could she behave with equanimity among them knowing what she did? _But perhaps they are not entirely at fault. It was, after all, Darcë who deceived them._ Elizabeth wondered whether Darcë himself would be there, but she consoled herself with the belief that he had most likely returned to his home at the Havens.

Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter with concern and said, "You are surely not displeased? I thought you had always wanted to learn more about elves, and here is the perfect opportunity to do so."

"No, I am not displeased, only surprised," Elizabeth said, recollecting herself. "So we are to see one of the last elven refuges this side of the Sea? An ideal place to spend one's summer. And as you say, it will be the perfect opportunity…for many things."

The first two weeks of their journey passed uneventfully. Other than a small company of (temperamental) dwarves, they met no one on the Road. For the sake of his daughter, Mr. Bennet maintained an easy pace and stopped at least twice a day to rest. At night, he would never set up camp within sight of the Road but would find some hollow or wooded area that would afford them some protection from spying eyes. Travelling was easy for them, though Elizabeth may not have realized it, and the early June weather remained pleasant.

Elizabeth loved merely to watch the wild country in bloom. In the journal she had promised Jane she would keep, most of her entries thus far had been drawn and narrative sketches of the landscape. The lengthiest entry was a detailed description of a large plateau that stood among the Weather Hills to the north of the Road.

When she had asked Mr. Bennet about it, he had said, "It is called Weathertop. Once the great watchtower, Amon Sûl, stood upon it, but the tower was destroyed long ago."

"How?" Elizabeth had asked.

"By the Enemy. It was burned to the ground."

Mr. Bennet would say no more about it, and Elizabeth wisely did not press him.

Two weeks out of Bree, they reached the Last Bridge, by which they would cross the River Hoarwell. It was about noon, and they stopped near the Bridge for lunch. Elizabeth gratefully eased her pack off her shoulders and sat beside a tree on the bank of the River. As she selected various items from their store of food, Mr. Bennet walked about the area.

"After we cross the Bridge, it will be safer for us to set up our camp south of the Road at nights," Mr. Bennet said.

Elizabeth paused in the midst of her task and regarded her father thoughtfully. "How so?"

"If you stray too far north of the Road, you will cross into troll-country, and I fancy you would not relish that. We must double our caution during the remaining third of our journey, but I expect we will reach Rivendell within a week."

"I shall be glad! Being awakened in sleep by hungry trolls is not what I would call a pleasant end to our adventures!"

Mr. Bennet looked off into the distance with a slight smile and replied, "I have a friend who learned that the hard way. He would agree whole-heartedly with you."

Mr. Bennet's caution, though wise by all means, was needless. The country through which they passed was empty for the most part, so no evil befell them during the week that followed. Despite the ease of their travels, Elizabeth liked to imagine herself as a true adventurer. She almost regretted that they would soon reach the end of their road, but thoughts of bed, bath, and tables laden with food quickly overcame this.

At nightfall of the last day, they reached the Ford of Bruinen, and after crossing it Mr. Bennet abruptly turned off the road and headed northeast. The land began to rise sharply and was heavily wooded. Scattered trickles of moon and starlight were all that illuminated the way. The travelers became increasingly enmeshed in darkness, as the trees closed in around them and narrowed their path.

An hour after they had changed the direction of their course, Mr. Bennet paused and looked about him uncertainly. For a couple of minutes he seemed to consider something, then chose another path. When he paused once more, Elizabeth began to feel a bit alarmed. Up until that point, he had always seemed certain of where he was going.

"Father?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.

Mr. Bennet looked back and smiled at her, but Elizabeth was not for a moment fooled. The anxious glint in his eye did not escape her.

"Father, why do we not return to the Road?"

"The Road will not take us to Rivendell. If it would, anybody might find it. Have a little faith in your father, Child. I have never tried to make the journey to Rivendell before, but-"

"Never before? Father! You said yourself that the Valley is hidden! If you do not know how to find it, then what are we to do?"

"Do not fret, Elizabeth! That is why I never considered bringing along your sisters, much less your mother. Gandalf himself gave me directions to the House of Elrond long ago."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and asked, "How long ago?"

"Never you mind!" Mr. Bennet replied with feigned severity. "I know very well what you are implying, and I will have you know that-"

"Hush Father! Listen!"

Mr. Bennet obeyed immediately and straining his ears heard singing in the distance.

"They are elves," Mr. Bennet whispered.

Elizabeth nodded and asked, "Shall we follow the sound?"

"At this moment, I can think of no better course of action," Mr. Bennet replied with a shrug.

"Father!"

Mr. Bennet only laughed heartily at his daughter and walked on ahead. Rather than allow herself to be annoyed, Elizabeth joined in her father's laughter and trailed after him. Mr. Bennet quickly regained his sense of direction using the elven music as a guide; and after traversing a short distance, the travelers came upon its source.

A gathering of elves sat about a fire, most of them equipped with an instrument and singing. Their faces were fair beyond measure, each seeming to give off a light of its own. An air of peace that was not present moments before when Elizabeth and her father were making their way through the woods surrounded them. Elizabeth stood still as she observed them, being afraid to move lest she disturb the ethereal scene. Mr. Bennet had no such qualms and strode confidently ahead to the circle of elves.

One of the few elves who had chosen not to take part in the singing looked up and laughed aloud upon seeing Mr. Bennet among them.

"Mae govannen, mellon!" the elf cried merrily as he came forward to meet him. A few of the others did the same and offered their own greetings. "So you choose to come at last, Thomas? Only you would have the cunning to come to Rivendell just after the Mid-Year celebrations are safely over!"

"Well, well. Far be it from me to disturb your folk whilst they are dancing about in the woods. I never did acquire a taste for it myself."

Several of the elves laughed at this and began to converse with Mr. Bennet in their own tongue. Elizabeth marveled at the sight of her father speaking with greater ease among these elves than he ever did among members of his own family, and at last she understood what Mr. Bennet truly sought during all his travels over the years. She met the eyes of the elf who first recognized Mr. Bennet and smiled shyly. He returned it with warmth then whispered something in her father's ear. Mr. Bennet laughed at whatever was said and motioned for his daughter to join them.

"Elizabeth! You are not one to stand aside, hidden in the shadows. Come hither!"

"So this is the famous Elizabeth Bennet?" the elf asked. "I have heard much of you, and I can see that none of the praise has been exaggerated! I am Glorfindel of the House of Elrond and bid you welcome to Rivendell, though you still have a few miles to tread before you reach it. My companions and I will escort you the rest of the way, otherwise I fear your father would never find it!"

Elizabeth smiled at Glorfindel, relieved to find that he was no more a Darcë in manners than he was in looks. Unlike the latter, Glorfindel's hair was long and golden, and he was clad wholly in white. Though his appearance was high and lordly, it was obvious to Elizabeth that he was also open, friendly and quick to laugh.

"I welcome your kind offer, my lord," Elizabeth said. "And perhaps along the way, you can tell me how it is that you have heard so much of me. Has my father been your informant?"

"Not I! If I was his only source of information, he would know nothing save that I have five ridiculously silly daughters!" Mr. Bennet teased.

"No, it was not your father. I have not had the pleasure of seeing him for some time," Glorfindel said. "It was Darcë of Mithlond who spoke to me of a certain lady of Bree who had won his admiration. I believe you made his acquaintance last fall?"

Mr. Bennet chuckled and turned away to hide his amusement.

"Well, I should hope that you would find _his_ praise not exaggerated. He is my severest critic," Elizabeth said as she exchanged a sly smile with her father. "I am afraid that he and I are not the best of friends."

"Indeed? I must say I am surprised," Glorfindel said, looking not a little puzzled at their behavior.


	8. Chapter 8

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part VIII

By: Lillian C.

_Rivendell_

_June 28_

_I must own, Jane, that this _is _a perfect house, whether you prefer music and tales, food and drink, pleasant company, long walks or quiet reflection. After only a day, I have been convinced of this, though I was a bit skeptical at first when old Mr. Baggins told me so. I can now say with certainty that I could spend all my life at Rivendell in contentment, but somehow I feel that _you_ would be especially happy here. The quiet order and refined air of Elrond's house would suit you. However, I will not attempt to put into words the beauties and wonders of this place; to do so would not only be tiresome for me but insufficient for you. Alas, there are some things that cannot be captured within a body of text. I would much rather try my hand at describing for you some of the people I have met here._

_I shall begin with Elrond, the Master of the House. People call him a half-elf, a lord of elves and men, and I can well believe it. The wisdom of many years glitters in his eyes, but he appears in the vigor of youth. He is a kind host, but I rarely see him as he is much engaged with his counselors these days, or so I am told._

_Mr. Bilbo Baggins, whom I have mentioned before, is native of the Shire, and the tale (one of many I will tell you when I am home!) of how he came to be a permanent resident of Elrond's house kept me awake till a very late hour last night! He is a curious sort - quite as bookish as Father, if you will believe it - but very much a hobbit. I hear his room is so littered with papers that its furniture has not been seen for many an age. (Does this not seem familiar, Jane?) He and Father spend a great deal of time among the many books, maps, and records kept at Rivendell, so I am often left to myself. And of course, aside from history and storytelling, Mr. Baggins' chief interest is Elrond's table._

_Glorfindel, a high elven lord, was unwittingly the means by which my newly formed prejudice against elves was removed. He is much like your Binglorn in temperament, being kind, quick to laugh, and generally in good humor; but despite this, one cannot help but feel the strange power that emanates from him. Father told me that Glorfindel has a long and legendary history reaching all the way back to the First Age of the World. However, Father chose not to discuss it in detail, as is his wont. Thankfully for him, I did not inherit a tendency toward nervous fits or else I would have plagued him incessantly about it! _

_While Father is about with Mr. Baggins or the elves, I find an amiable companion in the company of an elf named Georgianiel. She is really very young for an elf and is only slightly taller than I am. Her features are just what I would expect of an elf maid: fine, delicate, and framed with pale golden curls. She moves about so lightly and gracefully that I sometimes feel quite awkward and clumsy beside her. When first I met her, I thought her aloof, but when I drew her out I discovered she was only shy and unused to the society of humans. Once Georgianiel overcame her discomfort, I found her an invaluable companion. She seems to know everything about everyone at Rivendell and entertains me with the most diverting stories, while showing me the best walks throughout the Valley. Now that I think of it, I am due to meet her in the gardens at this moment and must lay down my pen. Until tomorrow!_

Retiring her journal and pen to their place on the windowsill, Elizabeth hastened out of the room and followed an intricate path through passages and down stairwells that led to the front door. The day was waning so most areas of the house were empty as people were making their way outdoors or to the Hall of Fire where songs and tales would be shared. The music that arose from the Hall reached Elizabeth's ears like a farewell as she flew out the door.

When Elizabeth reached her and Georgianiel's meeting place in the gardens, she found another person seated on a low bench in her friend's stead. Elizabeth gasped in surprise, and the person started at the sound. The dark figure was none other than Darcë, and judging by the expression on his face, he was just as surprised by her presence.

"Miss Bennet!"

"Darcë. How…_nice_ to see you again," Elizabeth said with difficulty.

Darcë seemed not capable of further speech, but he made no move to leave. Out of politeness Elizabeth ventured to make a few attempts at something like conversation, but Darcë was not very cooperative and seemed content to continue staring at her in surprise. Quickly becoming annoyed, Elizabeth gave up and took to strolling idly about the area, pretending to be fascinated by various flowers. Darcë, having already offered Elizabeth his seat and been refused, sat himself down and continued to study her.

"Do not let me keep you from your meditations, my lord. I shall be leaving here shortly as soon as my friend arrives."

Darcë smiled softly and said with the barest hint of irony, "Nay, lady, you are in no danger of disturbing my present meditations."

Fortunately, Elizabeth soon heard the welcome sound of Georgianiel's light, girlish voice calling her name. She answered immediately, and Georgianiel entered the clearing with a bouncing step. Upon seeing Darcë, Georgianiel gasped in delight and flew into his arms. Elizabeth found herself gaping at the spectacle of Darcë affectionately embracing and laughing with the elf girl.

"Darcë, have you met my friend Elizabeth?" Georgianiel asked, having taken note of her friend's wondering expression.

When Darcë replied in the affirmative, Georgianiel proceeded to explain to Elizabeth that they were connected through an ancient marriage between her cousin and one of his kinsmen. As their respective kindred had passed over the Sea either by choice or misfortune, Darcë was the only family Georgianiel had left.

"It has been too long since you have come to see me!" Georgianiel said reproachfully. "You must accompany Elizabeth and me on our walk and entertain us with your adventures. And do not deny having some ready tales to tell, for I know very well that you have been in the company of the Dúnedain! Come Elizabeth, help me persuade him!"

"I fear I must decline," Elizabeth laughed. "I do not wish to intrude upon this reunion. We can postpone our walk, Georgianiel."

Darcë and Georgianiel naturally protested, but Elizabeth remained firm and left them to themselves. She returned to her chambers and was welcomed with the warmth of a fire in the hearth.

Once more that evening, Elizabeth sought the company of her journal. As she flipped open the cover and thumbed through the pages, she was amazed to find that almost half the book was filled with her small, delicate script. She smiled when she thought of how pleased Jane would be.

Elizabeth paused thoughtfully as she reached the first clean page. After a few minutes, she began to write. _Jane, I have just learned the most remarkable thing!…_

Elizabeth had previously noted that Georgianiel was reserved among company, but what she did not fully realize was that Georgianiel was also very perceptive. Few things escaped her notice (which would explain the endless supply of stories with which she diverted her new friend).

When Darcë returned, Georgianiel noticed the change in his behavior almost at once, and she was not long in detecting its source. Thus she wisely chose not to share her discovery with Elizabeth but began to closely observe her kinsman and her friend while together. As the reader has no doubt already guessed, this proved to be a difficult task, for while the first party would not at all object to being in the company of the other, the second party tried to avoid the company of the first if she could help it. However, with a few innocent maneuverings, Georgianiel succeeded in bringing the two parties together occasionally.

One of her greater successes occurred when she arranged to have Elizabeth encounter Darcë and her in the Hall of Fire one afternoon. Georgianiel knew that the Hall would most likely be empty at that time and so Elizabeth would have no choice but to join them.

As Elizabeth approached them in the Hall that day, Georgianiel did not miss the suspicious look she cast in her direction upon seeing Darcë, but she only laughed and said, "I have been telling my cousin of your musical abilities, Elizabeth, and was hoping you would favor us with an air."

"Musical abilities?" Elizabeth inquired with an arched brow. "I believe I once told you I sang a little, but I meant a _very_ little and _very_ ill, especially to those who are accustomed to beauty of a much grander scale."

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing Darcë color at this statement and smiled archly at him.

"Nonsense!" Georgianiel cried. "Who that hears your voice would not agree that it would be fair in song? Sing for us a song of your people."

"Very well, if you are so determined to have your ears cruelly tortured. I will sing for you one of Mr. Baggins' songs. I heard him sing it the night I arrived here."

Georgianiel concealed a triumphant smile as best as she could as she listened to Elizabeth's acceptance and turned her eyes to Darcë to watch his reaction to her song.

In her soft alto tones, Elizabeth proceeded to sing:

_The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with weary feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way,_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And wither then? I cannot say…_

Elizabeth fell silent and smiled apologetically. "I do not remember any more."

"I have also heard Master Bilbo sing that song. I like it the better for having heard you sing it! It was very prettily done!" Georgianiel said.

"Very beautiful, indeed, Miss Bennet," Darcë said gravely.

Elizabeth, of course, assumed the worst of his gravity, but Georgianiel knew better. She did not miss the soft glow in Darcë's eyes as he watched Elizabeth sing nor the way they trailed after her when she took her leave. Georgianiel was not overly disappointed by Elizabeth's swift departure. Her suspicions had already been confirmed. She only wished she could be more certain of Elizabeth's feelings.

When the first week of July had passed, Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, returned unexpectedly from the mountains. Elrond ordered the preparations for a great feast to welcome them home, and the household was lively with anticipation. Elizabeth herself was curious to see Elrond's sons, of whom she had heard much.

The hall in which the feast would be held was filled with folk by the time Elizabeth and her father arrived. Mr. Baggins had managed to save a seat for Mr. Bennet but had not been able to do so for his daughter. Fortunately, Glorfindel had observed her plight from the front of the hall and motioned Elizabeth to a seat on his left. Elizabeth accepted the seat gratefully, much to Georgianiel's dismay who had hoped to seat her between herself and Darcë.

When Elizabeth sat down, she looked around for her friend but was unable to see her from her prospect at the upper end of the hall. Looking to her right towards the head of the table, she saw Elrond seated with his sons upon his right and left.

"I did not know they were identical," Elizabeth whispered to Glorfindel.

"Yes, few can tell them apart," Glorfindel replied.

"What keeps them in the mountains for such extended periods of time?"

"Vengeance," Glorfindel whispered solemnly. "Years ago, their mother was gravely injured when her entourage was attacked by orcs, and the pain she suffered could not be cured, even by the healing powers of Elrond. She has since passed into the West. But let us not sully the celebration with dark memories! Instead, you might tell me how you have employed your time in Rivendell thus far. Surely not buried in books and documents like your father?"

"No indeed!" Elizabeth laughed.

As servers bearing heavily laden trays made their entrance, Elizabeth and Glorfindel continued to converse amiably together on different topics. When Glorfindel commented on Darcë's unexpected appearance in Rivendell and the delight Georgianiel must have felt on the occasion, Elizabeth thought of an unanswered question that had been gnawing on the edge of her mind since Darcë's arrival.

"Have you made Binglorn's acquaintance? Does he ever come to Rivendell?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have never met Binglorn and do not believe he has ever journeyed hither, but I know him to be a great friend of Darcë's," Glorfindel replied.

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, "he _is_ a great friend of his. I have no doubt that Darcë takes a prodigious deal of care for him."

"Neither do I, truthfully. I have heard that Darcë lately saved Binglorn from the unhappiness of a most imprudent marriage."

Elizabeth froze upon hearing this. The image of Jane turning her face away from her to hide her tears suddenly appeared before her mind's eye.

"Did you hear of the reason for his interference?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"It had to do with the family I suppose."

"And what makes him think _he _is qualified to be the judge?" Elizabeth muttered to herself.

Glorfindel looked at her in concern, his keen hearing having heard her words above the din of the merrymaking around them.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. Perhaps this was not something I should have spoken of. Miss Bennet, are you unwell?"

"My head is aching. I believe some fresh air is what I need right now. Excuse me."

Elizabeth rose and walked swiftly out of the room. Though she had assured the elf lord that it was but a trifling ache, Glorfindel started to follow her. However, at that moment, Elrond claimed his attention and prevented him from doing so.

Elizabeth sighed with relief when she found the Hall of Fire to be empty and took a low seat in a remote corner close to the fire. At last sure of solitude, she could no longer restrain the tears of frustration.

She never despised Darcë as much as at that moment when she discovered he had been the means of deeply wounding her dearest sister. When she reflected on Jane's misery coupled with her determination to appear as content and serene as ever before her family, Elizabeth felt an overwhelming desire to exact vengeance on the haughty, arrogant elf lord, and the intensity of her dark feelings frightened her.

_Jane, so kind and unaffectedly generous - she of all people is most deserving of happiness! But what does that elf care? We lowly mortals are nothing to the likes of him in the grand scheme of things!_

So deeply was Elizabeth immersed in her grief and anger that she failed to notice the agent of her emotions walk furtively into the Hall.

"Miss Bennet?" he called toward the dark corner where she was seated.

Despite being startled and greatly vexed at having been discovered by Darcë, of all people, she succeeded in regaining most of her composure and hastily wiped away her tears.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I saw that you had abruptly quitted the merrymaking and wished to inquire after your health."

"I am well," was the only reply Elizabeth could offer.

However, Darcë appeared not to have heard her and seemed as agitated as she was. He made no move to leave Elizabeth but stood before her, alternately gazing into the fire and glancing uncertainly in her direction. This puzzling behavior continued for several minutes before he finally stepped towards her and said in a shaking voice, "Whatever may befall me, I can no longer struggle against my feelings. I must tell you how ardently I love you."

In a single moment, every vexation that had tormented Elizabeth's heart was consumed in the shock of Darcë's declaration. Her entire body shook with the violent change. Her face, once crimsoned with the mingled effects of anger and proximity to the fire, was now as white as her gown.

"I know now that I have loved you almost from the first time I beheld you," he continued when she did not respond. "Of course, the absurdity of the fact that I, a High Elf of the Noldor, could choose a mortal as the object of such feelings long prevented my professing them. Marriage between us would undoubtedly incur the incredulity and censure of my kindred were they present to witness it; and the fate of an Elda who cleaves to a mortal is also no small consideration. But even these objections are nothing to what I feel for you, therefore nothing is to be done save accepting you as my wife. Will you have me?"

Elizabeth stared at Darcë in astonishment for some time before she realized that he was awaiting her answer. That he expected an answer at all to his ridiculously supercilious speech was astonishing. Though she trembled still, Elizabeth slowly rose and stood stiffly before the expectant elf lord.

"My lord, you need not fear for your immortality. I have no desire to be the cause of your doom. I suppose I _should_ feel some obligation as you have succeeded in persuading yourself to make such a sacrifice - but I cannot. I am sorry to give anyone pain, but it was unintentional, and…I am sure that those _considerable objections_ will have no difficulty convincing you once more of the _absurdity_ of your feelings."

Deeming this answer to be sufficient and certainly more civil than he deserved, she moved away from him towards the Hall's entrance.

"Eliza- Miss Bennet!" Darcë called.

Elizabeth turned in exasperation to face him once more and was taken aback by the emotions his face betrayed. She was uncertain whether it was wrath or incredulity that radiated from his presence, but a fire burned in his eyes that she had never before witnessed. Perhaps it was akin to desperation.

In truth, Darcë had not expected a refusal and was struggling to comprehend the full import of her reply.

"And so I am rejected? May I ask why?"

Elizabeth crossed her arms and assumed a look of defiance. "I am at a loss to know where to start. Perhaps I could begin with the cruel part you played in separating Binglorn and Jane, or perhaps I could begin at an earlier point by mentioning your betrayal of Wickham? But now that I think of it, I should really go straight to the root of those evils by saying I could never marry someone, be he man or elf, who is as proud, conceited, and arrogant as yourself!"

Darcë was now as pale as Elizabeth had been, and he had the look of one who was suffering a mortal wound - but perhaps he was.

"So all these months, _this_ has been your opinion of me?" he haltingly asked.

Elizabeth did not answer, but her countenance told him everything.

"Very well," he said softly. "At long last, I understand. Forgive me for having disturbed you, and…may the stars shine upon the end of your road."

But Elizabeth barely heard his blessing, for she had fled the Hall and was hastening to her chambers.


	9. Chapter 9

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part IX

By: Lillian C.

"Wickham!" Darcë muttered contemptuously as he watched Elizabeth's white form disappear from the Hall. When Darcë learned last fall that the man he once swore to protect had again crossed his path, little did he anticipate the extent of the damage he would cause before he returned to the shadows, though Darcë felt he should have expected it. The malice that Darcë had detected in the youth was as strong a presence in the man, and it had always been the deciding factor in all of Wickham's actions. His only hope now was that he might be able to defend himself against Wickham's accusations, whatever they may be; and if that meant exposing the entire history of his connection with him, then so be it.

Darcë stiffened when he heard the soft murmur of elven speech and laughter growing louder as Elrond and his people made their way to the Hall of Fire. The sound of their merriment was a cruel mockery to his wounded heart. Preferring not to allow the others, Georgianiel in particular, to witness his unhappiness, Darcë hastily exited the Hall through a side door and sought a place where he might write a letter in peace.

Elizabeth did not emerge from her room the next morning. Her father and Georgianiel each sent concerned messages up to her, but she would only answer that she was strangely fatigued and desired seclusion.

What she chose not to reveal was that her fatigue was due to the fact that she had wept long into the night over the events of the previous evening.

With amazement and near disbelief, Elizabeth recalled Darcë's words and the fevered looks that accompanied them. When her mind was finally able to accept their full meaning, she found that her previous view of him was entirely overthrown. That the cold and severe elf lord who had succeeded in preventing a union between his friend and her sister would seek to form one with her was incredible! On what grounds could Darcë object to Binglorn's association with Jane save her humble origins? Would not the consequences of such a union be infinitely more considerable for Darcë?

Elizabeth was not above feeling flattered by the implication of Darcë's decision to declare his feelings. In truth, she found it highly gratifying to know that she could inspire a love so strong it would compel Darcë to relinquish his immortality in exchange for a life with her. For the briefest moment, she felt compassion for him and regretted the pain her sharp refusal must have caused, but never once did she regret that her answer _was_ a refusal, neither did she doubt that his insufferable pride would soon lessen the ardency of his feelings.

It was not until early in the afternoon that Elizabeth chose to leave her room. Desiring not to see Georgianiel just yet, she stealthily made her way to Elrond's library where she hoped she would find her father. When she reached the door she was seeking and pushed it open, a rush of air that smelled of dust and old paper brushed past her. The room was almost entirely dark save where a candle burned on a desk at the far end. The light was partially obstructed by the large chair at the desk that faced away from her. Closing the door behind her, Elizabeth stepped softly to the desk where she expected to find her father pouring over some ancient scroll.

However, the eyes that met hers when she reached the chair were Darcë's, and they strangely bore no hint of surprise at her presence. Whatever his task, it seemed he had just completed it, for he was in the process of sealing what appeared to be a letter.

Before Elizabeth could say a word, Darcë hastily rose and offered her the letter saying, "Miss Bennet, do not leave just now. Please do me the honor of reading this letter."

Elizabeth accepted it in silence, and Darcë departed with a slight bow. Seeing that a considerable amount of the candle remained - Darcë had obviously replaced it shortly before her arrival - she took the seat he had vacated and tore the letter's seal. Written in small, elegant script was the following:

_Miss Elizabeth Bennet, _

_Fear not, Lady. I entertain no notions of accosting you once more with my proposals. Rather, I seek to defend my character from the accusations you implied this evening, particularly those that relate to Wickham._

_I know not the nature of your relations with Wickham, neither can I fathom what tales he has told you; but here follows a truthful account of my connection with him. Wickham's father was an honorable and valiant man, great among the Dúnedain, and I dearly valued his friendship. Sadly, his life was untimely cut short, and for the sake of our friendship, I vowed to him ere he died that I would raise his son as my own. Wickham was then but nine years old. I took him with me to my home in Mithlond, and during the years that followed, I endeavored to give Wickham all the care his father would have provided had he lived. Círdan the Shipwright, Lord of the Havens, himself took great pains with the boy, teaching him all that was necessary to follow the path of wisdom. Yet, as Wickham grew older, I began to see that our efforts were in vain. I know now that the pain of his loss had become a seed of malice sown deep into his heart. He never learned to resolve his anger and hatred but hid them within himself. As this hidden evil increasingly began to manifest itself through Wickham's words and actions, Cirdan counseled that I return him to his father's people. However, I could not bear the thought of having my friend's son - and my oath - thus cast away. I resolved instead to have him accompany me to Imladris, where I hoped his spirit would find healing through the wisdom of Master Elrond. Wickham was loath to make the journey, for reasons he refused to explain. Finding however that I was firm in my decision, he stole from his home of nine years the night before we were to leave for Imladris. For many months I searched for him, enlisting the help of the Dúnedain and people of Círdan's and Elrond's households. Long after the trail had grown cold and everyone had declared the situation hopeless, I continued the search but to no avail. For ten years, I heard nothing of Wickham. Then, Binglorn journeyed to Mithlond to personally deliver the tidings I had feared the most. Wickham was alive, but he had entered into the service of the Enemy. The further details Binglorn had learned of Wickham's condition in life left me without a doubt that he was utterly lost. It is fortunate that he never reached Imladris. I dare not imagine the evil that would come to pass if the exact location of that refuge was ever betrayed to the Enemy. Until last fall in Bree, I learned nothing else of Wickham's doings nor of his whereabouts, but the guilt of his fall is ever with me. _

_Master Elrond and Glorfindel can each testify to the credibility of this account. They are each only too familiar with the particulars of this history. I refer you to them if you yet have any doubts in this matter._

_As to your sister and Binglorn, I will unreservedly admit to having done all I could to prevent the match. Though I will undoubtedly incur your displeasure, I will confess that I rejoice in my success. _

_I quickly detected Binglorn's growing partiality to Miss Bennet, but it was not until the Netherfield Ball that I realized how far his feelings had progressed. Your sister's manners were as pleasant and engaging as ever, but I could find no evidence that Binglorn's love was reciprocated. I concluded that her heart must be almost untouchable. That very evening, I confronted him, and he unabashedly declared his intentions of proposing marriage at the earliest opportunity. Informing him of your sister's apparent indifference, I persuaded him to abandon his suit and quit Netherfield. You may believe my interference to have been unwarranted, but I could not allow my friend to entrap himself within a marriage to a woman who does not love him and whose connections are, forgive me, less than desirable. Thus, I can see no fault in my actions on his behalf. However, I do apologize for any pain those actions may have caused you and your family._

_To this letter, I will only add my sincere wishes for your health and happiness._

Towards the bottom of the final page, Elizabeth made out Darcë's name written in Fëanorian letters.

Elizabeth left her journal open upon the windowsill, and the pages that were visible were stained with the evidence of several feeble attempts at capturing into words the events of the last two days. Deciding after an hour or two that her efforts would not relieve her agitated heart and were more likely to distress her sister's tender sensibilities, she relinquished the task in favor of silent, but troubled meditation.

Strangely enough, what Darcë's letter had revealed about the true nature of her villain did not plague her nearly as much as what the letter had revealed about herself. She was overcome with shame as she reflected upon the blindness caused by her prejudice. Recollections that had formerly convinced her of Darcë's guilt resurfaced with new clarity, and she blushed to think of her naiveté. Jane and Charlotte both had had reservations about Wickham's story, and she wondered that she had paid them so little heed, being only too willing to lend an ear to anyone with something evil to say of Darcë, even the acquaintance of a day. However, despite her current better knowledge, Elizabeth still could not regret the manner of her refusal of Darcë's hand. She believed his abominable pride and his ill usage of Jane and Binglorn _did _merit its warmth.

Elizabeth looked towards the windowsill where the journal lay open to reveal her sad handiwork. _A poor substitute for a sister's comfort,_ she thought bitterly as she closed it.

A slight noise outside her door followed by a timid knock brought Elizabeth out of her dark reverie. She reluctantly left her seat by the window and opened the door just enough for her to peer out into the hall. Georgianiel stood there bearing a small tray.

"I hope you are better. I have brought you some dinner. Your father does not believe you have eaten anything all day," Georgianiel said as she observed Elizabeth's face with concern.

"I believe you are right," Elizabeth said, surprise evident in her voice. "You were very kind to think of me. Please come in."

Elizabeth's response seemed to ease some of the tension in Georgianiel's countenance, and she entered her room with her usual bright smile.

"I have missed our walks, Elizabeth. It has been two days since you have been outdoors. That alone is sufficient to prove you have not been well. How do you feel now?"

"Hungry, now that you have reminded me!"

Georgianiel laughed lightly and said, "Ah Elizabeth, you would make a sorry hobbit. You should have seen dear Bilbo's distress when he heard you had forgotten at least three consecutive meals!"

Elizabeth shook her head. "He would be surprised at how easy it is to do."

Georgianiel frowned at her friend's seriousness. "What has happened, Elizabeth? Has it anything to do with Darcë?"

She found the change in Elizabeth's facial expression as she heard Darcë's name an adequate answer to both questions.

"Why would you believe that?" Elizabeth asked, obviously unaware of how much her face betrayed.

"Because he has just told Master Elrond and me of his intention to depart for Mithlond in the morning, though he had planned to remain for some time!" Georgianiel stated plainly. Her voice was steady, but Elizabeth did not miss the tears that began to fill her eyes. "Neither I nor Elrond could imagine a reason for this sudden change, and Darcë was not willing to explain the matter. It is not like Darcë to act rashly, so I can only that assume something dreadful has happened."

"I am sorry," Elizabeth whispered as she turned away. "It is all my fault."

"How so, Elizabeth?" Georgianiel asked.

Elizabeth colored and dared not reply. She had apparently not expected to be overheard.

"Elizabeth, if you can shed any light on this matter-"

"I am afraid I cannot. Forgive me," Elizabeth said firmly.

The tension that had existed between them moments before returned, and Elizabeth was sorry for it, but she was not ready to speak openly of her cares. Sensing Elizabeth's need for solitude, Georgianiel took her leave but not before exacting from her a promise for a walk the following morning.

"After he departs, your presence will be necessary to keep me from excesses of sorrow," Georgianiel said with a wry smile as she closed the door.

Mr. Bennet was greatly relieved the following morning when his daughter joined him for breakfast. She appeared wan and fatigued, but her eyes twinkled almost as merrily as before. Bilbo, who sat on one side of Mr. Bennet, would not be relieved until he saw Elizabeth eating, and he persistently had generous helpings of various foods added to her plate. After all, it was beyond the old hobbit's ability to comprehend how one could survive a whole day in Elrond's house without repast. Mr. Bennet chuckled as he observed the growing mountain on Elizabeth's plate and listened to her vain protests.

"We have had a bit of news this morning Elizabeth," Mr. Bennet began with a teasing smile. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. "It seems that your favorite has fled the countryside. He must have found you to be too formidable an opponent, eh? Well, well. I suppose I should have warned him, but one would expect a person of his stature to be able to fend for himself."

"And who are you referring to as my favorite, Sir?" Elizabeth inquired with what nonchalance she could muster.

"You know perfectly well of whom I am speaking! Your tall, dark, brooding elf! You know, the one in whose company you have taken _such_ great pleasure." Elizabeth forced herself to laugh lightly at her father's taunts. "Ah, I knew you would be tragically affected by the news. You need not fear, though. Darcës are to be had in abundance here."

"I assure you, Father, that one was quite enough for me. And Mr. Baggins! Two slices of ham are also quite enough. I do not need a third and fourth!"

Fortunately, Georgianiel arrived and rescued her friend from her Father's teasing and Bilbo's solicitous attentions on behalf of her appetite. As Georgianiel led the way to the gardens, Elizabeth found her manner to be much less despondent than she had expected. She sang prettily as she walked and greeted everyone they encountered with a smile.

Finally Elizabeth could tolerate it no longer and asked, "Georgianiel, why this sudden cheerfulness? Has something happened?"

"Yes. I have news!" she exclaimed. "A small company is to travel to the Havens in September, and I will be of the party!"

"I see," Elizabeth said with a sympathetic smile. "Then you will soon be reunited with your kinsman."

Georgianiel frowned slightly. "Yes, but he will not be expecting me. Darcë left before sunrise this morning, a few hours before I learned of the company and made my decision. But that is not all, Elizabeth! Our company will pass close to your home along the way, and when it does, I want you to join our party. I have taken the liberty of suggesting the idea to your father, and he readily gave his consent."

"To the Havens? To Mithlond?" Elizabeth trembled as the possible consequences of such a scheme flashed through her mind. It would surely not be prudent for her to journey to _his_ home. Would it not give him the wrong impression of her intentions? "I do not think I can…"

"Please, Elizabeth, do consent!" Georgianiel pleaded. "If you do not, I fear our parting here in Imladris will be forever, for I will soon follow my kindred into the West."

Georgianiel looked upon her so earnestly that Elizabeth had not the power to refuse, and the idea that she would never again see her delightful elf friend greatly depressed her. Thus, Elizabeth gave her consent and hid her misgivings deep within her heart.


	10. Chapter 10

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part X

By: Lillian C.

_Dear Jane, you may by now have observed that as this month has progressed, my entries have become sparse and muddled, but do not fear. I will relieve your curiosity on all obscure points when we are together again. _

_Perhaps homesickness is what increasingly deprives me of the ability to find inspiration here. I hear elvish song and laughter and find myself recalling Kitty and Lydia's squabbles with something akin to fondness. Once, as I sat in the Hall of Fire and listened to some ancient tale of the First Age, it occurred to me that I was wishing I were listening to one of Mary's long-winded sermons. I even strain my ears to hear Mama calling me from the other end of the house to perform some silly task. Thus, I have come to the conclusion that I am going mad and that I must return home at once. Father is of like mind, for he came to me this morning and informed me that we would leave for home in a few days. We expect to reach Longbourn by the end of July. So, as I have already exhausted your senses with a detailed description of every inch of countryside between here and Longbourn, I will conclude this narrative here and permanently retire my pen._

Jane chuckled and handed the journal to Elizabeth. "It was a very charming narrative, indeed, and it kept me wide awake till a dreadful hour last night!"

Elizabeth accepted the journal with surprise. "Why are you returning this to me?"

"Because many clean pages remain, and you will not be home two months before you are off on another adventure."

Elizabeth's face darkened as she remembered the promise she had made to Georgianiel. "It will hardly be worth recording, I assure you."

Jane frowned at her sister's gravity. She had come across more than one passage in the journal that puzzled her to no end, but Elizabeth had yet to explain them. Jane could sense her discontent, but she did not press her confidence, knowing full well that Elizabeth would come to her in time.

On an afternoon two days from Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth's return, she did come. Elizabeth proposed that she and Jane take an "extended" walk, and Jane readily accepted. Jane estimated that they had walked about a mile before Elizabeth began making random comments about their journey, and she supposed that Elizabeth was gradually making her way to the cause of her unease.

After a particularly long pause, Elizabeth drew a deep breath and said, "There is something rather extraordinary that I would tell you, Jane, something I could not bring myself to disclose in the journal. I have anguished over it for weeks and still know not how to put it into words!"

"Speak and be easy, Elizabeth. You will feel much better if you do."

"I fear it is not so simple as that. I would that it was! But you are right. I will put it off no longer."

In the plainest terms, Elizabeth spoke of her various encounters with Darcë, of his declaration and proposal, and of the answer she gave. She was careful to omit certain portions of her story, including that particular conversation between her and Glorfindel, for fear of giving unnecessary pain. She concluded by giving Jane the first page of Darcë's letter, which she had kept with her since the day she received it.

"Poor Darcë!" Jane cried after she had read the page.

"_Poor_ Darcë? Do you blame me for refusing him?"

"Of course not, Elizabeth, but think of the pain he must have endured! To know that the one he loves thinks so ill of him!"

"I confess I cannot equal your compassion. He has other feelings that will have no difficulty extinguishing any amount of love he may still feel for me," Elizabeth said darkly.

Jane frowned slightly and shook her head. "No, I cannot believe that he could so easily cast his heart aside, that anyone would be willing to sacrifice everything for feelings that could fade at the first sign of difficulty. I must say, it is all very strange. I mean I always knew your heart would be sought after, but I never thought…that is, I never expected…"

Elizabeth laughed, sparing her sister further discomfort. "Yes, it all seems out of one of Father's tales, does it not? Yet I do not think I have ever heard of a heroine so blinded by prejudice, though I still believe at least _some_ of my prejudice is merited."

"Dear Elizabeth! When you read that letter, you must have suffered as greatly as Darcë when he heard your refusal. Indeed, you could not have made so light of it then as you do now."

Elizabeth nodded solemnly, remembering well the mortification of the experience. As they returned home later, the single page of the letter became a crumpled form in her fist.

"It is most unfair, Papa, that Elizabeth should twice be allowed to travel!" Lydia whined at the breakfast table. "She is not the only one in need of excitement and diversion!"

It had not been long after her return to Longbourn that Elizabeth began to wonder that she had ever missed her family's antics, and she soon became eager to depart again. As she listened to Lydia's chatter, she smiled at the strange waywardness of her feelings, mentally adding it to the list of character flaws she would have to teach herself to laugh at.

"I have never set foot outside of Bree!" Kitty pouted.

"Kitty and I should be allowed to go on a long journey!" Lydia insisted. "It does not signify where, so long as one is required to brave miles of fearsome wilderness."

Mr. Bennet, who had not appeared to be listening to his daughters' pleas, paused thoughtfully. "Kitty and Lydia left to themselves in the Wild. That is something worth considering. Please pass the sausage, Jane."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "How absurd you are! Think of all the horribly dark and rugged strangers they would encounter in the Wild!"

"Dark, rugged strangers…" Lydia echoed wistfully.

"You need not fear, my dear," Mr. Bennet reassured his wife. "I am certain the lands hereabouts would not truly merit that name unless these two were set loose within them."

Mrs. Bennet could think of no reply to this, so she turned her head sharply away to show her offense. This gesture bothered Mr. Bennet not at all, and he sought to enjoy the remainder of his breakfast in peace.

Mary looked crossly at her sisters and said, "If you would only find more useful employments for your minds, you would not be so keen to run about the countryside."

Lydia only huffed impatiently and once more turned pleading eyes upon her father, but he had ceased to attend the subject at hand and continued cutting his sausage.

Once the initial joy of Elizabeth's return had subsided, Jane's spirits sunk into the general melancholy that had persisted since Binglorn's departure from Netherfield, and the fact that her sole confidante would once again leave for some strange country depressed them even more. Elizabeth noted this with dismay and urged her to join the company to Mithlond as well. Jane firmly declined, though not without some regret. However, she knew very well that her mother would never support the idea of her eldest daughter travelling to foreign places. (Jane chose not to dwell on the oddity of the perfect ease with which Mrs. Bennet allowed her second daughter to travel where she wished.)

"But Jane," Elizabeth protested, "it is no more your fate to remain at Longbourn forever than it is mine, of this I am certain! Perhaps Father could intervene for you?"

"No Elizabeth. I will not put one parent against the other in such a way. And even if I could procure their consent, I do not think I am ready to brave the world just yet."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, "Believe me, few are more prepared to take on the world than those who have survived the perils of Longbourn."

This remark elicited from Jane a soft laugh, but nothing more.

"I wish you would come," Elizabeth sighed. Jane detected in Elizabeth's voice a hint of anxiety, and she wondered if Elizabeth was thinking of Darcë and if she feared seeing him in Mithlond. "I see you are still unhappy, Jane, and it grieves me to no end."

Elizabeth was indeed thinking of Darcë then but only as the author of Jane's misery. Though she had long since admitted to herself that she had been mistaken about his intentions, she still bristled over his officiousness. She briefly wondered whether Binglorn was at all conscious of his thralldom to the elf lord.

Jane, who had been observing her sister's hardened features with concern, said, "Elizabeth, unhappiness is inevitable in this world, as much for the great as for the lowly. The histories and tales Father has passed on to us are proof of this. It will not do for you to allow every vexation, every misfortune to be a cause of such distress, as is your wont." Jane smiled fondly at her. "I know you never tire of your struggle against the injustice of the world, but do not waste your strength on things that cannot be helped. I was mistaken about Binglorn's feelings for me, and he will not return. There is nothing I can do about it; I have resigned myself to this. His departure still pains me, yes, but there is nothing _you_ can do about that either. So trouble yourself no more on my account. I need only time to mend."

The summer waned with little excitement - not so much as a ball was held, much to the chagrin of Longbourn's younger inhabitants - and the first signs of autumn began to appear in the land. Elizabeth observed the change with mixed feelings. Though she welcomed the thought of traveling again, she feared where her journey might lead her.

It was on a cool September morning before the sun had risen when a small party of elves reached Longbourn. Barely a whisper or a rustle was heard as they passed the gates and approached the three mortals who awaited them.

Of the Longbourn household, Mr. Bennet, Jane, and Elizabeth alone were awake to welcome them. Mr. Bennet stepped forward first, and judging from the solemnity with which he exchanged farewells with many of the elves, Elizabeth gathered that most of the party would soon be taking the westward way, never to return.

Despite the hour, Jane was wide-eyed as she exchanged greetings with the fair people. Darcë was the only elf she had ever seen, and it seemed to her that these people were rather different from him. They seemed gentler in nature, more wistful, yet somehow more melancholy; but different from all the elves was Georgianiel, whom Elizabeth presented to her. She alone seemed to carry some semblance of youth and lightness of manner.

"Your sister has told me much of you Jane Bennet, and it is clear to me why you are so dear to her," Georgianiel said with a shy smile, which Jane eagerly returned. The two liked each other immediately; and Georgianiel was saddened, for she knew she would be leaving Middle Earth soon and would never have a chance to cultivate a friendship with this mortal who she perceived to possess a temperament not unlike her own.

After all farewells had been made and Elizabeth had embraced her father and sister, Mr. Bennet and Jane returned to the house. When Jane reached the threshold and looked back to catch a parting glance, she was surprised to see that the small company had disappeared. She would almost have felt they had not been there at all had not she remembered with a sinking heart that they had taken Elizabeth with them.

Elizabeth had not anticipated that she would add very much to her journal along the road to Mithlond, not expecting to come across anything she might consider a novelty. However, she found that traveling with the elves was an experience wholly unlike traveling with other mortals. Perhaps it was because the elves rarely made use of the Road, preferring to cut across the country and keep close to the more heavily wooded areas. However, Elizabeth felt the world did appear differently, and areas she had felt would be familiar to her were entirely foreign. Though winter was but a few months ahead, the lands seemed adorned in springtime freshness as she gazed up at the stars overhead and listened to elven voices sing.

As might be expected, Elizabeth and Georgianiel spent much of the journey in each other's company. They made a very merry pair, each taking great delight in the new scenes to which their path led them.

Assuming as indifferent an air as possible, Elizabeth inquired after Darcë, desiring to learn whether they would see him in Mithlond. Georgianiel suddenly looked downcast and said she did not expect they would, for she believed he had spent much of the summer with the Dúnedain in the Wild. Elizabeth struggled to conceal her great relief as she expressed a polite amount of regret for Darcë's anticipated absence.

After a few days of rugged, untamed country, the travelers came upon an expanse of well-cultivated fields. It was a sudden change in the landscape, and Elizabeth knew instinctively that they were crossing through the Shire. However, the elves, as Elizabeth expected, steered clear of such areas and made for Woodhall.

On one particular evening while they were still within the Shire's borders, Elizabeth spied a hobbit whom she was certain had observed them as well. He walked leisurely in solitude and wore a wistfully contemplative expression that was uncharacteristic for a hobbit. She wondered that any hobbit would go so far into the woods by himself in the evening, and she was strongly reminded of the tales of Bilbo's adventures.

A distant tremor that shook the air and resounded through the earth reminded the elves that they had best complete their task before nightfall. Círdan the Shipwright, who had been silently watching their progress, turned to regard the menacing storm clouds hastening toward them. Such tempests had become increasingly common the past few years, and the Lord of the Havens wondered what omens they would bring with them. He returned his gaze to the nearly completed ship that would soon carry into the West another group of elves weary of Middle Earth.

The sound of light footfalls approached from behind, and Círdan turned in surprise to see Darcë walking towards him.

"Greetings, mellon!" he said. "You return home sooner than you had planned."

"Lord Círdan, mae govannen! I wished to return in time to bid farewell to Georgianiel, which I was not able to do in Imladris. I see that all will soon be prepared for her passage," Darcë said with a nod to the elves laboring below.

"Yes and none too soon," Círdan replied, gesturing towards the darkening sky. "Will you tarry much longer after Georgianiel departs?"

Darcë turned and looked eastward to a place Círdan could not see. "No, perhaps not."


	11. Chapter 11

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part XI

By Lillian C.

Elizabeth was surprised to find how soon their party reached Mithlond after having left the Shire, and when she expressed her surprise to Georgianiel, she only nodded and smiled wanly. As they had drawn nearer to their destination, Elizabeth noticed that her friend, as well as the rest of the elves, became more silent and contemplative, particularly those who had known no other home than Middle Earth.

When they ascended the final hill and beheld at last the shining field of blue and gold, a sudden stillness swept through the company. Elizabeth felt she must have been the only person to notice the change, and she somehow sensed from looking into the face of each elf that all the hopes and dreams they had ever cherished throughout their immeasurably long lives were embodied in those infinite waters.

As for herself, she was not so profoundly affected by the sight of the sea. Oddly the scene seemed as familiar to her as the view outside her bedroom window at Longbourn. She was aware of such a strong feeling of home as she took in the white beaches and the strange music of the waves that she wondered if she would ever be able to leave it.

"It is just as I dreamed it would be," Georgianiel said as she moved to Elizabeth's side. "Do you see that ship there?" Elizabeth looked in the direction Georgianiel indicated and saw a beautiful white ship waiting in the harbor. "That ship will bear me into the West."

"Forgive me, but you do not seem as old as those who will take the journey with you," Elizabeth observed, "and neither do you seem as weary of Middle Earth. Why do you choose to go with them?"

Georgianiel looked away for a moment, as a tear slid down her slender cheek. Elizabeth almost regretted her question until Georgianiel raised her eyes to Elizabeth's and her smile returned.

"I was a small child when I lost my family, but I have always known they would be waiting for me whenever I come to Tol Eressëa. This knowledge has always been a hope and a comfort in my loneliness."

She turned once more towards the ship, and an expression of resignation quickly replaced the veil of sadness that had fallen across her face. She took Elizabeth's hand in her own and said, "All has been made ready, and my time has come."

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she watched the other elves make their way to the white ship that waited below. "The ship is to leave today?" Elizabeth gasped as Georgianiel moved to follow their party. "But I thought-"

Georgianiel squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Yes, I am afraid we must bid farewell at last. Would that we could have the assurance of meeting again, but our respective fates will not allow it!"

The reality of Georgianiel's words fell upon Elizabeth's consciousness like the sudden onslaught of cold rain that had assailed their party days previous. She was unable to speak through the tears that threatened to spill. Of course she had known that their parting was inevitable, but her mind always pushed the event forward somewhere in the future. She was not prepared to part from her friend that day and certainly not that very hour.

As they drew near the dock, Georgianiel suddenly gasped and cried aloud. Elizabeth looked in alarm after the elf maid who had sped forward to the elves that waited by the ship. She would have immediately followed her friend had not the sight of a tall, raven-haired elf lord waiting among the others froze her steps. It was into this elf's arms that Georgianiel ran, and her tears now fell freely as she threw her arms about his neck.

But even as Georgianiel embraced Darcë, she felt him stiffen; and when she pulled away in confusion to gaze at her kinsman, she saw that the sudden change was affected by the presence of Elizabeth just a few feet from them. Darcë's face appeared hard and cold at first, but his eyes told a different tale, one of sorrow and regret…with perhaps a twinge of hope. Georgianiel was familiar enough with her kinsman to know he was exerting an enormous amount of effort to conceal the emotions that brewed within.

"Elizabeth," he whispered just loud enough for Georgianiel to hear.

"Miss Bennet," he said in a clearer voice as he crossed the distance between them. He offered her his hand, and Elizabeth accepted it, actions that greatly surprised Georgianiel. "Thank you for your kindness to Georgianiel in accompanying her hither. I doubt not you have made enjoyable a journey that otherwise would have been difficult."

"You are very welcome, my lord," Elizabeth replied blushing at the audible tremor in her voice. "It was my pleasure to do so."

"I trust your family is in health?" Darcë inquired. If Elizabeth had been less nervous, she might have detected a tremor in his voice as well.

"Yes, I thank you, my lord."

"Had you a pleasant journey hither?"

"Very pleasant indeed, save for the violent tempest that hindered us two nights ago."

"Yes, I was fortunate to have arrived ahead of it." Darcë paused and looked uncertainly at Elizabeth, wishing to say so much more than such trivial pleasantries.

Georgianiel discreetly smothered a smile as she observed the pair, being particularly amused that Darcë had yet to relinquish Elizabeth's hand. Ages hence, living in peace on the Lonely Isle, Georgianiel would often look back and fondly remember them as they were at that time, standing close together, uncertain of each other and not yet ready to acknowledge the ties that had already irrevocably bound them together. However, at that moment, Georgianiel was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she would be making more than one eternal farewell that day.

Looking down and seeing that her hand was still clasped in Darcë's, Elizabeth's blush deepened. Darcë noticed her discomfort and recollected himself. He released Elizabeth's hand and, turning once more to Georgianiel, embraced her for the last time.

"Be happy, sister of my heart," Darcë murmured into her hair. "Be happy, and do not wait for me."

Georgianiel nodded, but could find nothing to say. Further words were unnecessary for them, for they had long foreseen this day. After exchanging a final, tearful farewell with Elizabeth, she joined the others on the ship.

As the ship was steered from the havens into the Gulf of Lhûn, Elizabeth had the strange sensation that a small part of herself was standing there beside Georgianiel and drifting away to a place she could not follow. Her hand unconsciously sought Darcë's, and the ache in her heart was eased by the contact. Together Darcë and Elizabeth watched the sun and the ship recede into the distance until they met in a golden haze and disappeared.

A soft but deep voice broke the silence. "Elizabeth Bennet?" it said.

Elizabeth turned to see a strange, ancient elf standing before her. He was clad entirely in gray, a sharp contrast to his white beard and shockingly blue eyes. She had never seen such an elf, whose features bore such prominent evidence of a life long beyond human comprehension.

"I am Elizabeth Bennet," she replied with a slight but respectful bow.

Darcë smiled at the elf lord and said, "Miss Bennet, I present to you Círdan the Shipwright, Lord of the Havens."

"It is an honor to meet you, my lord," Elizabeth said, not a little in awe of the great elf lord.

"It is an honor to meet you as well. You are your father's daughter, Miss Bennet," Círdan said with a smile. "You are very welcome here and are free to remain as long as you wish. My people have prepared lodgings for you, and a company of Lord Elrond's people are ready to be your escort whenever you desire to return to your home."

Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised at Círdan's generosity and even more so at the mention of her father. Her travels in the last year had proven more than once that her father possessed a great many secrets unshared.

That evening, Elizabeth was shown to some spacious rooms in Círdan's own home. Elizabeth was delighted with them, for they were not only well suited to her taste, being light and cheerful, but also had windows that overlooked the sea. During her stay, she kept them always open that she might relish the sounds of the waves and the sea birds and the songs of the mariners.

Elizabeth kept mostly to herself in the days that followed, preferring to mourn the loss of Georgianiel in solitude. When the initial pangs of grief began to lose their intensity, her thoughts began to wander to cares closer at hand, namely Darcë's behavior to her since her arrival.

She had not expected that Darcë would even deign to speak to her again, much less welcome her with such warmth. She learned from the elf maids who served her that he inquired everyday after her but would not press to see her. If it were not for her remembering his interference with Binglorn and Jane, she would have gladly sought to meet him.

Often she took long walks along the shoreline while she puzzled over his behavior. She never found outdoor excursions more pleasing than at that time. The sun and air seemed so much cleaner than farther inland, and she delighted in the lively dance of the waves upon the sand and around her often-bare feet. Every once in a while the sea would yield from its depths some small treasure that she would wrap in her handkerchief and save for Jane, who she knew would treasure it.

On one such excursion three days from her arrival, Darcë crossed her path, and she found that she welcomed his company and minded not at all his joining her. Darcë himself was relieved to find that his presence no longer seemed entirely irksome to her.

He eyed the small bundle she was carrying with curiosity. Elizabeth followed his eyes and laughed self-consciously.

"Gifts for Jane," she explained as she uncovered the shells. "I did not think I would be able to do justice to these on paper."

Darcë held one aloft and chuckled softly. "Perhaps not, but I doubt she would welcome such gifts, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth frowned. "What do you mean? They are lovely."

"Indeed, but they are not yet unoccupied."

Darcë laughed at the bewildered expression on Elizabeth's face, and taking the rest of the shells from her, tossed them back into the sea.

"Come," he said taking her arm. "I have many such at home whose tenants have long since abandoned them. You may take as many as you wish to your sister."

Elizabeth laughed in her turn and said, "I never imagined you would be a collector of seashells, my lord."

His smile turned melancholy, and he replied, "I kept them for Georgianiel. Any tokens from the sea fascinate her to no end."

Elizabeth became more somber as well. The pair continued in silence until they drew near Darcë's home. Half a mile from the shore, partially hidden by a grove of trees stood his abode: a large, stately house cunningly built with gray stone. Elizabeth observed it with an appreciative eye. She knew little of architecture, but she could see it had been well constructed and mingled well with its natural surroundings.

"Welcome to Pemberlë," Darcë said. He studied her face intently, searching for signs of approval or disapproval, as her eyes took in his home.

"Pemberlë? I like that. The name suits very well. It is a very handsome building," Elizabeth said with sincerity.

Darcë smiled warmly at her praise. "I had some assistance in its construction from the dwarves of the Blue Mountains," he said as he guided her to the entrance. "Only dwarves work stone so well, no matter what my kindred may say."

Elizabeth did not understand this remark but resolved to ask her father about it when she saw him again. When she entered the house, her favorable opinion of Pemberlë did not waver. The furnishings reflected a simple but elegant taste. Windows were numerous and situated so as to admit the greatest amount of light and the fairest prospects. Elizabeth was very much impressed and briefly wondered if it was Darcë alone who arranged the rooms in such a way.

Darcë guided her to a pleasant sitting room and left her to seek the aforementioned shells. He was not absent five minutes when a servant entered bearing refreshments of which Elizabeth eagerly partook, having not taken anything since early that morning.

When Darcë did not soon return, Elizabeth took to wandering about the room, gazing with idle curiosity at various objects. Her interest suddenly peaked when she came upon a beautiful, glittering object set within a small wooden box. It was a large medallion in the shape of a star with many points, a symbol that seemed oddly familiar to her. A bright, blue stone set in its center shone with a strange light that held her in awe. Elizabeth jumped at the sound of Darcë's voice just behind her.

"I received this from my lord Maedhros as an award for bravery on the battle field many years ago," he said as he reached around her and picked up the medallion. "It has long ceased to be a symbol of pride."

"It is very beautiful," Elizabeth said softly, choosing not to inquire about his latter statement. "I have never seen such a stone. It must have been a great deed that merited such a gift."

Darcë sighed and returned the medallion to its case. "I assisted Maedhros and his brothers in rescuing their father Fëanor in the Dagor-nuin-Giliath. We were too late though. It was not long before he perished from his wounds." He paused and shook his head. "Forgive me, it was not my intention to depress you with tales of a dead age."

"Tales do not depress me, my lord. My father inspired in me a love of history when I was but a girl, and it is my firm belief that history is not to be forgotten so that we may learn from our errors," Elizabeth said, her eyes revealing to Darcë more than the words spoken.

Darcë smiled and said, "Many of the greatest of my people lived long and accomplished many things but perished without achieving the wisdom your few years has granted you."

Elizabeth colored at his praise and turned her head away from Darcë's gaze to the wooden case he held in one hand. "This holds the collection you spoke of, I presume?"

Darcë nodded and offered her the case. She accepted it, grateful for the change of subject, and spread the contents on the table. She gasped at the sight of the rainbow assortment of seashells and began to examine each one with a childlike wonder that elicited Darcë's laughter.

"If they please you so, you had better take them all with you." Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Darcë raised a hand and said, "Nay, they are rightfully yours now. I shall take more pleasure in them knowing they are in your possession."

Elizabeth smiled in gratitude and gently placed the shells in their case. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Darcë draw near and heard an intake of breath as if he were going to speak.

In a rush of fear for she knew not what, she turned sharply towards the window and exclaimed, "Oh dear! The sun will set soon, and I have a long walk ahead of me. You have been very kind, my lord, but I feel I must return now, else people will be sent to look for me."

Darcë froze and a pained expression passed quickly over his features. He nodded solemnly and said, "Allow me to escort you back then, Miss Bennet."


	12. Chapter 12

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Part XII

By: Lillian C.

Círdan was waiting anxiously for Elizabeth when she and Darcë returned, though his anxiety did not proceed from fear for her safety. Of course, Elizabeth was not aware of this, so when she noticed the tense manner in which he received her, she immediately began to apologize for returning at a late hour.

"Your apologies are unnecessary, Child. You are free to enter and leave my house as you please, for I trust your prudence. I am only disturbed at the urgency with which this letter was brought hither," Círdan said as he handed Elizabeth a folded and sealed parchment.

Elizabeth turned the parchment over in her hands and recognized the elegant script in which her name was written. "It is from my sister, Jane! She must have sent this but a few days from my departure. By what hand was it carried?"

"One of my own people carried it. Your father was fortunate to have so swiftly found someone who could bring a message to Mithlond," Círdan replied.

Elizabeth nodded wordlessly and, with trembling fingers, broke the letter's seal. Círdan left the room to give her privacy. Darcë followed suit but not before taking Elizabeth's hand and giving her a reassuring smile.

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_As much as I deplore the thought of disrupting your pleasant journey and the last happy moments you will have with your friends, I cannot help but hope that this letter reaches you as soon as possible. Be not excessively alarmed however. Know that we are all alive and as well as can be expected. The tidings I have to relate concern poor Lydia._

_The very day after you left for Mithlond, Kitty and Lydia came home from an outing in Bree with the news that Wickham had returned and had taken lodgings at The Prancing Pony. Though I sorely regret it now, I chose not to reveal what you and I have heard of Wickham's history. I had no wish to malign a character whose taint may very well have proceeded from a misunderstanding. Mother received Wickham in our home the following day for tea. I noticed then that Wickham and Lydia conversed together with great animation, but I could discern no particular regard, at least on Wickham's side, that would lead me to suspect what was to come._

_Thus we were all in utter shock when a letter was found on Lydia's bed the next morning declaring her intentions to run away with Wickham on what she describes as a "grand adventure." You may imagine our distress upon the discovery. Mother at once took to hysterics, and Father left the house presumably to make inquiries and did not return until nightfall. He left again the next morning to search for them. _

_Thus far, Father's efforts have been in vain. Mother has hopes that we might be able to consider Lydia married but is quite disturbed that "the affair was not done properly" and I believe thinks overmuch on the subject of wedding clothes. _

_But Elizabeth, I now think the affair much more grave than I had believed. Since Lydia's disappearance, our uncle Butterbur has told us of strange things that have been seen in Bree. Black horsemen have ridden through the town and caused great fear and uproar among the people. Our uncle himself was quite shaken when he described it and hinted that the recent events might not be unrelated. The tale of fearsome black riders brought clearly to my mind Darcë's letter, and I keenly felt the blame for my silence on the matter._

_Elizabeth, I cannot bear this burden alone, and your presence would be a great comfort to Father and me. Please come to Longbourn as soon as you can._

"Oh Lydia!" Elizabeth cried. "You cannot possible realize into whose hands you have thrown yourself!"

Darcë was alone in the hall just outside of the room where Elizabeth was still reading her letter, and he paced anxiously along the length of the passage. He was not prone to nervous habits, but some unknown weight had settled on his heart the moment Círdan placed the folded parchment into Elizabeth's hands. Darcë knew not how, but he was certain that the letter's contents bore some connection to him and was quickly becoming impatient to discover it.

A sound at the door stayed his movements, and he turned to see a weeping and trembling Elizabeth burst into the hall crying out, "Lord Círdan! I must see Lord Círdan at once!"

Darcë was immediately at her side and endeavored to lead her back to the room where she could be seated. "Elizabeth! What has happened?" he demanded.

"Please do not hinder me! I must find Lord Círdan this moment!"

"You are too unwell to go seek him on your own!" Darcë insisted. "Stay here, and I will send someone to fetch him."

Darcë left Elizabeth for a few minutes while he hailed a servant. When he returned, he found that she was weeping silently over her letter. He knelt before her and said, "Círdan will be here soon. He suspected that the message contained urgent tidings. Is there anything I can get for you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. When she was able to stifle her sobs, she raised her eyes to him and said, "Forgive me. The tidings are indeed urgent and are of a nature that requires me to leave Mithlond this very night."

"Oh Elbereth! What evil has come to pass?" Darcë pressed.

Tears returned to Elizabeth's eyes, and she bowed her head and covered her face to hide them. Darcë reached up and gently pulled her hands from her face and kissed them. "You can tell me, Elizabeth. I vow I will do whatever I can to aid you."

"You vow? Have you not learned after all this time to beware of oaths?" Elizabeth asked, surprising Darcë with a soft laugh amidst her tears. She shook her head, and her smile vanished. "Forgive me."

"There is nothing to be forgiven," Darcë said solemnly. "Oaths born of hatred, such as the one that brought the downfall of my kindred, are indeed to be avoided, but surely you do not think my oath proceeded from such a sentiment?"

Elizabeth looked him in the eye and read there all the earnestness of his words. With grave resignation she began, "My youngest sister, Lydia, has left her home and has disappeared into the country in the company of Wickham."

Darcë gasped and rose from his position with a single, sharp movement. Any traces of warmth and kindness had vanished and were replaced by the seemingly cold demeanor with which Elizabeth had formerly associated him. She felt struck to the heart by the change.

"What has been attempted to recover her?" he asked.

"My father has attempted a search, but no traces of them have been found."

"And it is certain that she is with Wickham?"

"Yes, Lydia left a letter explaining her intentions, but I expect she did not include their destination."

Darcë turned away towards the window and stood there silently for some time. As Elizabeth watched him, a startling realization fell upon her: he was lost to her, and she regretted it, deeply. To imagine Darcë would connect himself with her family now, when Lydia had willfully run away with his greatest enemy, was impossible, and Darcë's behavior seemed proof of this. Elizabeth severely berated herself for not having come to a better understanding of her feelings sooner, especially when the situation had called for that understanding. With depressing certainty, she knew that she would have been happy with him and that, though he was of the elder race, she would find no one else better suited for her. And in truth, she had no desire to do so.

"I must take leave of you now, Miss Bennet," Darcë said from the window. "I am certain Círdan will provide everything you need." With a last parting glance, he hurriedly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

As much as Círdan tried to persuade Elizabeth to wait until morning to leave for Longbourn, Elizabeth remained obstinate. She would leave that night, alone if necessary. Fearful that she would indeed do such a thing, Círdan granted her wish and even went so far as to provide horses for her and her escort. So Elizabeth, with three companions, hastened from Mithlond under the cover of a starless night.

Elizabeth never would recall much of that frenzied ride from Mithlond to Longbourn; but beneath the fevered pulse of thoughts that screamed for home, she was aware of a new sadness and uncertainty that took root and grew within her heart: she might never see Darcë again.

It was very late in the evening when Elizabeth and her escort drew near her home. As they passed Bree, they found the town deathly quiet, and not a light could be seen from any window. Longbourn seemed as devoid of life as Bree when they reached it. An unknown fear or dread hung heavily in the air that made even the elves uneasy, and they were anxious to continue on to Rivendell.

Elizabeth bade farewell to her companions and entered the house as silently as she could. The ride from Mithlond to Longbourn had been very difficult, not least because Elizabeth had scarcely allowed her and her escort an hour's rest at a time; so once she reached her room, she fell senselessly onto her bed into a deep sleep. Elizabeth perhaps would have remained thus till late the following day if left undisturbed, but it was not meant to be.

Since the disappearance of her youngest daughter and the recent reports of mysterious dark riders, Mrs. Bennet's nerves had been in such a state that she was not allowed any respite from fits and palpitations (or so she often asserts). Thus, she was fully awake when Elizabeth arrived and clearly heard her creep up the stairs and into her bedroom (which she thought a remarkable feat considering the dreadful pounding of her heart). Unfortunately, it did not occur to Mrs. Bennet that her daughter might have returned. Instead, she convinced herself that a conspiracy had been made among a band of dark riders to raid Longbourn in Mr. Bennet's absence.

Arming herself with a hairbrush and a hand mirror, Mrs. Bennet opened her bedroom door and peeked into the hall. When she found it to be empty, she proceeded to scurry downstairs and cry out, "UNDERHILL! MRS. UNDERHILL! YOU MUST AWAKEN AT ONCE! Oh, where is Mr. Bennet when he could make himself useful? UNDERHILL! ARE YOU AWAKE YET?"

When a rather rumpled and bleary-eyed Mrs. Underhill managed to pull on her robe and hasten out of her room, she found her mistress sunk into a chair just outside her door and violently fanning herself with a handkerchief.

"Ah Underhill!" Mrs. Bennet whimpered. "You must go upstairs and see what is in Miss Elizabeth's bedroom! You must go make certain it is not one of those black-garbed ruffians!"

"Nay, my lady!" Mrs. Underhill protested. "I shan't go upstairs! I certainly will not go if there are black ruffians waiting for me!"

"Do not be silly!" Mrs. Bennet scolded as she rose and attempted to usher the hobbit toward the stairs. "I will be waiting at the foot of the stairs and will be able to hear if something is amiss."

"A small comfort that is!" Mrs. Underhill muttered as she started up the stairs. When she reached the second floor, she made the mistake of looking down towards her mistress and, seeing the distance between them, began to whimper and tremble violently.

"Hush Underhill!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Or else the thing will hear you coming and make ready to pounce on you!"

Though poor Mrs. Underhill was far from able to calm herself after Mrs. Bennet's reproach, she continued until she reached Elizabeth's bedroom door. A dim, golden light outlined the door, and the hobbit thought she could hear the soft hum of female voices within. With a stealth of which only a hobbit is capable, she pushed the door open just enough so that she could peek through. To her infinite relief, she saw the two eldest Miss Bennets (who had been aroused by their mother's screams) seated on Elizabeth's bed, speaking together in excited but hushed tones. Mrs. Underhill closed the door and happily returned to the ground floor where her mistress was pacing and fretfully wringing her hands.

When Mrs. Bennet saw Mrs. Underhill stepping cautiously down the stairs, she immediately ran to her and demanded, "What did you see? Oh do not keep me in suspense! Should we vacate the house? Oh, that Mr. Bennet was here! What will we do outside without a protector?"

Mrs. Underhill chose to ignore her mistress's exclamations and said with all calmness, "All is well, my lady. Miss Elizabeth is returned and has retired for the evening."

"What! Has she no respect for my poor nerves? Can she not imagine how they torment me without her stealing into the house like a thief! Oh, the insensitivity of the young! I am off to bed!"

With that, Mrs. Bennet swept past her bewildered housekeeper and stalked up the stairs to her room.

Lydia gazed sleepily into the small campfire, her chin resting in one hand and her legs stretched behind her. Every once in a while, a discontented sigh escaped her lips, and her pout became more pronounced.

Wickham and she had been traveling for days without encountering anything of significance. At first it had all been quite diverting, seeing new country and travelling with a handsome, reckless Ranger; but after a while Lydia began to feel the monotony of the landscape and grew weary of their isolation. Where Wickham was headed and what he was searching for he never disclosed, and he often left Lydia at their camp for hours on end. Then, to Lydia's great annoyance, he decided to head back towards Bree to "report to his contacts." Supposedly, Wickham had ventured forth alone that evening to meet with those mysterious "contacts", but his absence had been longer than usual.

"It is most unfair!" Lydia whined to the trees. "Walks to town with Kitty are far more agreeable than this! Wickham is probably out keeping all the fun and adventure to himself!"

Lydia listened idly into the night, but she heard no reply to her complaint. In fact, she could hear nothing besides an occasional crackle from her dying fire. She sat up and looked around anxiously, straining to hear the night sounds that had previously almost lulled her to sleep. However, nothing stirred. Not even the trees would console her with a rustle of their leaves. It was then that she noticed that the sky was without stars that evening and that the moon had covered her face. It probably need not be said that any desire for danger and adventure became then as fleeting as the light from the campfire.

Then Lydia heard a noise behind her. A footfall perhaps. The noise was soft, but in that silence, it shook the air and was as loud as a thunderclap. She peered behind her, and her eyes attempted in vain to sift through the sylvan shadows to find the source of the sound.

"Wickham?" she called out uncertainly.

No answer came, but a sudden tension proceeding either from her own fears or some outside force seized her body and stilled her breath. Without a sound or even a movement, the light from her fire vanished, and Lydia was shaken from her frozen state. She turned back to where the fire once burned and saw...emptiness.

After sixteen years of lighthearted gaiety, Lydia met horror for the first time, and it held her so mercilessly that she was not allowed to scream or even sink into the refuge of unconsciousness.

The chilling sound of metal drawn across metal reached Lydia's ears. An invisible hand unveiled a long, sickeningly cold light and pushed it towards her. But it was not Lydia's fate to fall prey to that darkness. At that moment, a gleaming figure tore threw the shadows and planted itself as a shield between Lydia and what waited beyond. The sudden contrast of light and dark was so brilliant that Lydia was forced to shield her eyes. When she was able to open them again, she could have laughed out loud despite everything!

_So_ he _is to be my rescuer?_ Lydia thought incredulously as her mind slid gently into restful oblivion. _What a joke!_


	13. Chapter 13

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Chapter XIII

By Lillian C.

Elizabeth arose late the following day and immediately sought Jane who had promised to show her Lydia's letter. However, ere she reached Jane's room, she was intercepted by her mother who was still in a miff about the events of the previous evening.

"So, you are up and about at last! You were very naughty to behave as you did last night, stealing into your home like a thief, carrying on as if you were some dark ruffian!" Mrs. Bennet cried as she pressed her handkerchief to her breast in a rather mournful fashion. "Have you no compassion on my nerves?"

"I apologize, Mama," Elizabeth said with some confusion. "It was not my intention to disturb you. As I arrived at a very late hour, I chose not to rouse anyone."

Mrs. Bennet huffed indignantly and swept passed her toward the stairs without a word. Jane peered into the hall from her room and looked at Elizabeth with questioning concern.

"Think nothing of it, Jane. Mama was just welcoming her dearest daughter home," Elizabeth smilingly explained.

"Dearest daughter indeed!" their mother retorted from the stairs.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and brushed past Jane into her room. Jane followed, closing the door behind her. She then removed a folded paper from a box on her dressing table.

"Here," Jane said as she handed Elizabeth the letter, "perhaps you can derive more from this than we have."

Elizabeth eagerly unfolded the letter and read the following:

_No doubt you will all be quite jealous when you read the contents of this letter, for I am now off on my own grand adventure! (I am determined that Elizabeth shall not have all the fun!) And who is to be my noble escort? Well, if you cannot guess, I shall think you all daft! Wickham alone has any claim to my heart. Do not look for us to return any time soon. I expect Wickham plans to take me to many wondrous, faraway places ere we think of returning to dull and dismal Bree! My sisters may rest assured that, should I meet any other eligible, handsome Rangers, I will send word by the swiftest messengers. After all, I would be a very selfish creature to keep them all to myself! I can just imagine the looks on your faces at this moment! I am in danger of a laughing fit just thinking of it!_

"Typical Lydia!" Elizabeth cried. "Thoughtless to no end! She cannot be so amused at her situation now. Wickham is a villain, and I shudder to think of what may befall her."

"Do you think he would intentionally harm her?" Jane asked, alarm clearly written on her face.

"I know not what to think or expect," Elizabeth replied, shaking her head in frustration. "I cannot understand his allowing her to accompany him. What could his motivation have been?"

"He must truly love her!" Jane said warmly. "What other motivation could he have? She is, after all, without fortune or worldly consequence. And it is still possible he is not entirely the villain you think him."

Elizabeth did not try to argue this point with her, as absurd as she considered the idea that Wickham could care for her sister. Jane would not be able to support the idea of Lydia alone in the Wild with one who could cause her harm, and Elizabeth knew it well.

"Whatever his motivation, they need to be found, and soon. I feel that the world is a great deal less safe now than it once was, even for a would-be Ranger."

"Are you thinking of the dark riders?" Jane asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"I hardly know," Elizabeth admitted. "We met with no such...people on the road from Mithlond, but I _felt_ something last night as we drew near Bree. I believe my companions felt it as well. They were most anxious to take their leave once we reached Longbourn. It may have nothing to do with dark riders, but I have never felt such a feeling of disquiet near the town. Even the inn was silent."

Jane frowned and said, "I think we had better not speak of this to anyone else, save perhaps Father. It would not do to give Mother any more cause to be...nervous."

Elizabeth heartily agreed.

Later that day, Mrs. Lucas hastened to Longbourn, eager to relate the events that had caused a great commotion throughout Bree that morning. Her two daughters, Charlotte and Maria, accompanied her so that they might call on the Miss Bennets. The two girls left their mother with Mrs. Bennet in the drawing room and proceeded to the garden where they were told they would find the others.

Even as they left the house, they could hear Kitty's voice complain, "Everything is so horribly dull without Lydia! Can we not go to Bree or something?"

"No!" said a voice in a sharp tone that could only be Elizabeth's. "It shall not be said that the Bennets of Longbourn cannot live through a day without parading through town!"

At the sound of her friend's voice, Charlotte hurried ahead of her sister to the garden where she found Jane and Elizabeth seated upon a bench and Kitty stalking about, pouting in an admirably Lydia-like fashion.

Mary had stowed herself in a low nook of a tree nearby and had her face hidden in a book. Upon hearing the exchange between Elizabeth and Kitty, she solemnly closed her book and said, "Kitty, you would do well to employ your time with more worthy pursuits. Might I suggest elven lore? I could teach you _The Fall of Gil-galad_ perhaps." Unfortunately, Mary received little more than a look of disgust for her pains. She sighed heavily at Kitty's sad lack of education and returned to her book after nodding towards Charlotte.

"Charlotte!" Elizabeth called gaily. "It is wonderful to see you! Do join us and enliven our conversation. We have been too melancholy all day!"

Kitty, seeing that no one save Mary cared to attend to her woes, made a heated exit and pulled a bewildered Maria after her. Charlotte looked after them in confusion before taking a seat opposite Jane and Elizabeth.

"I am glad you are come home safe, Elizabeth. We came with our mother who is anxious to share the latest news from Bree," Charlotte explained. "The whole town is in quite an uproar!"

"What has happened, Charlotte?" Jane asked.

Charlotte lowered her voice and said, "Your uncle's inn was raided last night! One room in particular was entirely ransacked! What is more, many of the animals he kept were driven away or taken!"

"My poor uncle!" Jane cried, paling visibly at Charlotte's account. "Tell us, is he well? Did he suffer any hurt?"

"No! No one was harmed. But it is said throughout town that some foreigners from the south are behind it all. Others speak of the black riders. And then there was the strange band of travelers who left the inn this morning."

"What travelers?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oddly enough, a party of hobbits from the Shire. And I have heard there was a Ranger with them."

Elizabeth exchanged a worried glance with Jane. "Did you see the Ranger?"

"No, but nearly everyone else did," said Charlotte. "Just about the whole town saw them off when they left Bree this morning. It is generally hoped that the possibility of further danger has left with them."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I somehow doubt that is the case. I believe that the danger has just begun."

Charlotte regarded her friend curiously. "Did you see anything during your travels to make you believe this, Elizabeth?"

"No," Elizabeth admitted, "It is just a feeling I have."

An uncomfortable silence followed this statement. Jane shifted uneasily as she observed her sister in solemn contemplation of evils she could not imagine. Wishing to pull Elizabeth from her dark reverie, Jane said, "We should call on our uncle as soon as possible. And perhaps he has heard something of Lydia or Father."

Elizabeth nodded mutely in response to Jane's suggestion.

"Then Mr. Bennet is still from home?" Charlotte inquired cautiously.

"Yes, and I would very much like to hear news of him," Elizabeth said as she rose to her feet. "I think we should walk to Bree today after all. Would you care to join us Charlotte?"

"Why do you not accompany Mother, Maria, and I when we return?" Charlotte suggested. "Mother did not intend to remain for long."

Mrs. Lucas had indeed intended to make but a brief call. However, Mrs. Bennet had other ideas and was not about to lose her chance to make the most of a potentially sympathetic ear. Mrs. Bennet's ever-lengthening list of woes was too good to be kept to herself, so it was a while before Mrs. Lucas could share anything of import.

When Mrs. Lucas was finally able to share her news, Mrs. Bennet was most profoundly affected. She gaped speechlessly at Mrs. Lucas for several minutes together (an exceptional event in itself) and twice attempted to raise herself from her chair only to feebly collapse back into it. The uncharacteristic dumbness of her neighbor frightened Mrs. Lucas to no end, and she immediately left to fetch Mrs. Underhill.

It was shortly after she left that Charlotte, Elizabeth, and Jane entered the drawing room to find Mrs. Bennet fluttering about the room, whimpering and making random exclamations.

Jane ran immediately to her mother's side and said, "Mother! Are you unwell? What has happened?"

"Smelling salts!" were the only intelligible words Jane could derive from her speech. She immediately fetched a bottle of salts from the mantle piece - nearly every room in the house was equipped with a ready supply - and held it to her mother's nose.

"Ah Jane! Mrs. Lucas has just told me the most distressing news!" Mrs. Bennet cried as she slumped into her chair.

"Yes Mother, we know it all," Jane said soothingly, spreading a blanket over her mother's knees. "Let us be thankful, though, that my uncle Butterbur was not harmed."

"But we are all ruined! My brother's inn was attacked last night, and Longbourn will be next! Mark my words! Oh, would that your father were here!"

"Mother, we intended to call on my uncle today," Elizabeth said, "and perhaps hear some news of Father."

"You shall do no such thing, Girl! You would all surely be abducted ere you reached the gates!"

At that moment, Mrs. Lucas returned with Mrs. Underhill. They each regarded Mrs. Bennet fearfully. Mrs. Underhill hesitantly stepped forward and addressed her mistress, "Are you unwell, my lady? Is there anything I can get for you?"

When Mrs. Bennet did not answer, Jane said gently, "Thank you, Mrs. Underhill. I will see to Mrs. Bennet. You might go fetch Kitty and Maria."

Mrs. Underhill nodded to Jane and offered a curtsy to her lady before making a swift exit. Mrs. Lucas looked after the retreating housekeeper with something akin to envy before turning to face Longbourn's distraught mistress.

"Will you not sit down, Mrs. Lucas?" Elizabeth offered, noticing her discomfort.

"Thank you, but I must decline," she replied. "It is getting late, and I should take my daughters home. I do hope all will turn out well, Mrs. Bennet."

"You are very good," was Mrs. Bennet's feeble reply. "Let us all hope that nothing else occurs to afflict my poor nerves!"

Elizabeth silently seconded her mother's wish as she saw Charlotte and Mrs. Lucas to the door.

The sharp chill of the wind that tore at Darcë's hair and raiment seemed to augment the fear that still permeated the area. That same fear had caused Darcë's horse to bolt in terror, which left him no choice but to bear his burden to Bree on foot. However, even elves have a limit to their strength, and Darcë was coming ever closer to reaching it. Fortunately, they were not far from the town.

When a torrent of cold rain began to fall, he at last allowed himself a rest. He laid Lydia against a tree and covered her as best as he could with his cloak. As he settled beside her, he gazed anxiously at her unconscious form. Darcë believed the Black Breath did not seriously harm the girl, but she apparently received just enough exposure to render her in a continuous sleeping state. (Although Darcë felt due compassion for Lydia's situation, he found it impossible to entirely lament her condition of speechlessness. Of course, he probably would never have been able to persuade her to be escorted home if she had been conscious.)

For some time, Darcë sat absolutely still and gazed intently into the face of his new charge. It was not long before his raiment was soaked, and the coldness reached up his limbs and penetrated deep inside him. His only comfort then was the resemblance he could discern in Lydia's features to another Miss Bennet.

Darcë sighed deeply and bowed his head, not heeding the steady stream of droplets that ran from his hair to his hands. For the thousandth time, he wondered whether Elizabeth had arrived home in safety and how she was dealing with her family's grief. Whatever her sufferings, he would do everything in his power to relieve them soon enough. Truthfully, the gratitude Elizabeth would undoubtedly feel when he returned her wayward sister was of little comfort to Darcë. Gratitude was infinitely more preferable than the apathy she had shown him in Rivendell, but it was far from the feelings he yet had hopes to inspire.

He shook his head at this train of thought. Such were not his concerns at the moment. Elizabeth's happiness was all that really mattered.

As Darcë made ready to complete the last stage of his journey, a sound that was at once hopeful and ominous reached his ears: a horse approaching on the Road. Thus far, Darcë had not taken the Road, but the path he followed ran close to it, close enough to put them in potential danger.

Darcë crept with the utmost stealth to the edge of the Road to observe the passerby. While caution kept his body tense and his sword ready, his heart was buoyed up by a strange and sudden certainty that the approaching rider was not a servant of the enemy. After minutes that seem to stretch so long they preyed even upon an elf's patience, horse and rider appeared, advancing at a somewhat half-hearted pace. Beyond all hope, the rider was none other than Mr. Bennet.


	14. Chapter 14 and Epilogue

Pride and Prejudice: A Hobbit's Tale

Chapter XIV and Epilogue

By Lillian C.

On a night of early October, Elizabeth was suddenly wakened by a great commotion that was a combination of shouting, slamming doors, and feet pounding up and down the stairs. Rather than risk being forced out of bed by her mother, Elizabeth rose, dressed quickly, and hastened out of her room. To her extreme astonishment, Mrs. Bennet was actually not the cause of the uproar (though she was a noteworthy participant).

At the top of the stairs, Jane intercepted Elizabeth and exclaimed, "Oh Elizabeth! Father and Lydia are come home, and they are well!"

Jane led Elizabeth to Lydia's room where she was laid on her bed wrapped snugly in blankets and loudly blowing her nose with one of her mother's handkerchiefs. Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Underhill, and Kitty were close at hand, fussing over her and asking silly questions.

"Well, I was too busy having heaps of fun to write to you, Kitty!" Lydia insisted with a great deal of sniffling.

"Of course you were, my dearest girl!" Mrs. Bennet declared. "Kitty, if you are determined to pout, then you had best return to bed!"

When Lydia noticed Elizabeth's presence, she simpered and said, "There you are, Elizabeth! Were you very jealous when you came home and found I was gone? I wager you were! Was not Wickham a favorite of yours once?" As she said the latter, she promptly clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled.

"Where is Wickham?" Elizabeth demanded, choosing to ignore Lydia's questions and her ridiculous behavior.

Lydia's face darkened considerably. "Father is being utterly disagreeable! He says I am never to speak of Wickham again, or Darcë for that matter."

"Darcë!" Elizabeth gasped.

"Yes," Lydia replied, giggling at her sister's wide eyes and flushed complexion, "Darcë is the one who decided that I should not speak of having met him, though I do not know why...Oh dear! I was not even supposed to speak of not being able to speak of them! It was all to be a great secret! Father shall be doubly cross now!"

"Hush my dear," Mrs. Bennet soothed. "I will have your father know you are in a very delicate condition now and need no scolding. And he need have no fear of our discussing Darcë any further. What is that elf to us anyway? I would rather hear of your dear Wickham. What has become of him?"

However, Lydia only put a finger to her lips and shook her head. Before her mother had a chance to become indignant and raise her voice, Elizabeth left the room and went directly to the library where she knew her father had taken refuge. She did not bother to knock, but immediately pushed the door open and went inside. To her dismay, she found Mr. Bennet sunk into his chair by the fireplace, his head buried in his hands. Elizabeth hurried to him and knelt at his side.

"Father, I am so happy you are come home!" Elizabeth said tearfully, momentarily forgetting her anxiety over Lydia's involuntary revelation. "You must be dreadfully fatigued. Is there anything I can get for you?"

At the sound of his dearest daughter's voice, Mr. Bennet raised his head and promptly embraced her. "I need nothing now, my child," he murmured.

After some time, Elizabeth drew away and asked, "Father, was the situation very bad?"

Mr. Bennet studied his daughter intently before he answered. The penetration in his gaze puzzled and unsettled her. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt unable to meet her father's eyes, for they gleamed in a way that was unfamiliar to her. It appeared almost to be disapproval or even displeasure, and it seemed directed towards her rather than toward Lydia, Wickham, or anyone else.

At last Mr. Bennet shrugged and said, "It depends on which situation you mean. If you are speaking of Lydia, well I suppose it all could have been worse. She is alive and unharmed, save for a nasty fright and a nastier cold. On the whole, I believe her sense has received little to no improvement from her experience, though perhaps that was a little too much to hope for..."

"I concur with you there," Elizabeth remarked wryly, "for she has let slip Darcë's involvement, or I assume he was involved somehow, despite your orders that she say nothing. I know not why it must remain a secret, but in view of the fact that she has revealed this much, would you not indulge me with the story in full?"

Mr. Bennet sighed heavily and shook his head. "I anticipated your finding out sooner or later, though I had rather hoped it would be later. It was Darcë's wish that I not reveal the fact that we owe Lydia's safe return to him."

"How?"

"He saved her from certain death at the hands of the servants of the Enemy. What Lydia does not and _will not_ know is that her attackers had murdered Wickham just before they found her camp."

Elizabeth paled at her father's words and was suddenly overcome with the warmest gratitude for the one who saved her sister from Wickham's fate.

"The encounter not only rendered Lydia unconscious but also spooked Darcë's mount, so he proceeded to carry her home. I met them but five miles from the town. As for his motives in going after them, I would think _you_ would be more familiar with them than I."

Warm color returned to Elizabeth's face in full force as that strange glint once again entered her father's eyes. Though she knew not exactly what her father meant to imply, she could very well understand the direction he was taking.

"What do you mean, Father? What has Darcë told you?" Elizabeth asked cautiously.

"Very little, to tell you the truth, but I surmised enough from his behavior then and at Rivendell...and from _your_ behavior as well, I might add," Mr. Bennet replied dryly.

"_My_ behavior!" Elizabeth cried somewhat indignantly.

Mr. Bennet chuckled at his daughter's expression. "Yes, my dear. Clever as you are, you have never been able to hide your emotions, at least not from me. It has been many months that you could not hear that elf lord's name spoken without blushing and becoming discomfited as you are now, and I remember quite clearly how your eyes tenaciously followed his movements in Rivendell - that is, when his eyes were not following yours. When I happened upon him outside of Bree days ago, it was only too apparent that all the pains he undertook for one sister were all for the sake of another." Mr. Bennet leaned forward and grasped his daughter's hand. "My child, I do not believe you are fully aware of what the decision you have made could entail. That such a choice should have come to one of my daughters in these times is almost beyond my comprehension! Not only will Darcë have to utterly forsake his place among his people in the West, but you will have to relinquish all claims to the world you have known. I am sure I need not recount to you the histories of unions such as these to remind you of the anguish they often inspire."

By that time, Elizabeth's eyes were swimming in tears, a visual testament to Mr. Bennet's latter words. Her tears however proceeded more from regret than anything else, regret that her father presumed more than what actually existed between her and Darcë and a more subtle regret that his presumption did not have a better foundation.

"You have nothing to fear, Father," Elizabeth said, careful not to let her feelings seep into her voice. "Darcë and I have no understanding. In fact, I believe such a thing quite impossible, considering Lydia's latest escapade."

Relief shown plainly in her father's face. "No understanding? Truly? Forgive me, my dear, but I must say I am quite relieved. I confess I was not a little displeased that you would have set your heart on an elf lord you had but lately disliked so prodigiously, but I am the last person who should fault you for having a wayward heart. After all, I _did _marry your mother." Mr. Bennet chuckled as he patted her hand reassuringly.

Elizabeth turned away for a moment as she struggled to understand the full import of what he had told her. Her face still averted she asked, "Father, at any time in the history you love and know so well has there been a union between the elder and mortal races that was not fraught with despair and the burden of fate? A union begotten of nothing more than the mutual love and respect of two people?"

"Lizzy," her father gently admonished. "How could it be so, as sundered as the races truly are from one another? Let it go. It will pass in time, and I advise you to try to be content within your own sphere. Others have done so in the past and have come to no serious harm."

Elizabeth now gazed at her father, blinking back further tears as his words left cruel gashes in her already sore heart. However, she knew that such was not his intention, thus she smiled weakly at him and said, "Yes, I will try. And perhaps if fortune is on my side, I may in time meet with another Mr. Collins."

Mr. Bennet snorted, "Well, whatever you wish, my dear, but pray let it not come to _that_."

Elizabeth affected a laugh and promptly fled her father's presence to the sanctuary of her room where her pillow offered a sympathetic shoulder for her tears.

No sooner had the gossips lost interest in the conjectures surrounding Lydia's mysterious return than yet another item of local interest emerged and was spread throughout town: Binglorn had unexpectedly returned and was reputedly in a hurry to settle all his unfinished affairs in Bree.

The news did little to raise the spirits of the Longbourn family. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters took this as a sign that Binglorn meant to depart for good, and the former did not scruple to bewail to Jane the loss of her suitor. Mr. Bennet, who had been better informed of Binglorn's business in the area, came to the conclusion that the Rangers were most likely to move south soon and assist in the wars that were brewing there. Elizabeth, though sympathizing with Jane's distress, was also aware of a keen disappointment that the general word implied Binglorn had come alone this time.

Thus, the entire Longbourn household was taken utterly by surprise when Mrs. Underhill burst into the drawing room declaring, "Master Binglorn is coming up the drive, my lady!" With that, the hobbit rushed from the room to receive him at the front door.

Fortunately, Mr. Bennet had the foresight to retreat into his library before his wife had a chance to react to the news. Elizabeth would have followed suit, but Jane caught her arm and silently beseeched her to stay at her side.

Mrs. Bennet jumped from her seat and exclaimed, "Steady yourselves, girls! We shall receive him as any other caller. Oh, Jane! Would that you had put on your blue gown this morning! But it's too late to think of it. Mary, do not fidget so! Go ring the bell for tea!"

Kitty, who had run to look out the window when the announcement was made, said, "Someone is with him! Who could it be? I think it is that elf who was with him before."

Jane alone noted how Elizabeth paled considerably at Kitty's revelation before she near collapsed onto the chaise beside her.

"Do you mean Darcë?" Mrs. Bennet gasped as she ran to the window.

Lydia immediately joined them, and seeing that Darcë was indeed come, fled to her room. Jane and Elizabeth observed her flight in confusion, each silently wishing she could follow.

"Oh dear, what a pity Binglorn is not alone," Mrs. Bennet said. "Well, I suppose we shall be forced to welcome the elf since he is Binglorn's friend. Now, where did Lydia run off too?"

Elizabeth, clasping Jane's hand as much to receive comfort as to give it, sighed in frustration at her mother's words and wished she herself had not expressed her former opinions of Darcë so strongly.

When voices and approaching footsteps were heard in the hall, Mrs. Bennet immediately scurried to her seat and tried to assume an air of serenity. Her efforts proved to be in vain however, for when the door opened she sprang to her feet once more and accosted Binglorn with her warm exclamations of welcome. Elizabeth noted her mother's pointed attempt to ignore Darcë and looked away in embarrassment, being painfully aware of how much her family was indebted to him. Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, Darcë took no notice of Mrs. Bennet's rudeness, his only interest at the moment being Elizabeth's reaction to his arrival. Noting her obvious discomfort, though not knowing the true cause, he looked away and sighed.

"Your departure was most abrupt, and we were so desolated when you left us without a word. But all is well now, for you have come back! Will you be long in the neighborhood?"

"I am afraid not, Mrs. Bennet," Binglorn replied as his eyes drifted to Jane. "I am actually in the process of permanently removing from this area and do not look to return in the future, so naturally I came to pay my respects to your family."

"You are very kind, sir," Mrs. Bennet sniffed, not at all pleased with his answer. "So you are to leave soon?"

"Yes, very soon. And there is some business of great importance that I must conclude here ere I depart. Would you-" Binglorn hesitated and looked to Darcë who gave him a small smile of encouragement. "Would you grant me an interview with Miss Bennet?"

Mrs. Bennet's good humor returned in full force, and she rushed forward to clasp Binglorn's hand. "Of course, good sir! The rest of us will have tea in the dining room, and you may join us when all is settled! Mary, Kitty, Elizabeth, come!"

Elizabeth blushed furiously at her mother's presumption and behavior and stubbornly remained where she was, determined not to leave Jane alone unless she wished it. Though as yet uninvited, Darcë opted to follow the others and offered his arm to Elizabeth. She looked uncertainly from Darcë to Jane and, finding that Jane attended to no one save Binglorn, shyly accepted his arm.

Tea that afternoon was a most uncomfortable affair. Mrs. Bennet, caught between excitement for what must be taking place between Binglorn and Jane and her awe of Darcë, was quite unable to say a word. Kitty and Mary were just as uneasy in the presence of the elf lord, so it was up to Elizabeth and Darcë to carry on some form of polite conversation. When they had exhausted every mundane topic relevant to the Bree-lands, Mr. Bennet entered the dining room with a smiling Jane and Binglorn in tow.

Mr. Bennet solemnly cleared his throat and said, "Mrs. Bennet, prepare yourself. You are about to lose one of your daughters."

At that moment, Elizabeth was extremely grateful for the presence of Darcë and his restraining effect on her mother. Save for him, she had no doubt her mother would have indulged herself in a fit of joyful hysterics. As it was, Mrs. Bennet limited herself to warm embraces for Jane and Binglorn and proceeded to drill Mr. Bennet on the subject of wedding clothes.

When Binglorn and Darcë took his leave that evening and Jane could spare a moment from the attentions of her family, she drew Elizabeth aside and led her to her room where they could speak privately.

"You will be so happy, Jane!" Elizabeth said warmly. "It is no more than what you deserve."

"I am happy already! Though you speak otherwise, I can hardly believe myself deserving of such happiness! He said he has loved me all the time! He just did not believe I returned his feelings." Jane fell silent, and the brilliance of her smile clouded a bit. "Elizabeth, he spoke truly when he said he was to leave soon. He will, and I will go with him - to Rivendell. All must be taken care of rather quickly, you see, because…well, he says we must settle at Rivendell before it is too late."

"Too late?"

"Yes. He says the lands are changing and becoming more dangerous by the day, but Rivendell is a safe refuge. It has been a sanctuary for his people for many years."

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath as she finally understood. "Then, Binglorn is a Ranger? One of the Dúnedain? And I would wager that Father knew it all the time."

Jane nodded slowly and said, "Binglorn told me the Rangers have maintained a vigilant watch over this area for some time, though he has not yet explained why. It was his chieftain who left Bree last month with that small party of hobbits, and now Binglorn believes him to be in Rivendell."

"And he is eager to join him," Elizabeth finished sadly. "When will you go?"

"In two days."

Elizabeth laid her head on her sister's shoulder, averting her face to hide her tears. "So, now our roles are reversed. It is you who is to go on the adventure and I who must stay behind wondering how I am going to get on without you."

"You are not for Bree, Elizabeth," Jane assured gently. "Of that I have been sure for quite a while."

Much to the chagrin of some, the wedding of Binglorn and Jane was a small, quiet affair, requiring little by way of new clothes and witnessed by few outside the Bennet family. Surprisingly, Darcë was not present to witness it, and Binglorn explained that his absence was due to urgent tidings he had received a day after their arrival and that he would join them as soon as possible on the road to Rivendell.

Elizabeth did not want to believe that Darcë would miss his dear friend's wedding to avoid her, but the thought did not escape her. She witnessed her sister's nuptials with as much happiness as she could muster and parted from her with all the dignity in her power. Only when Jane had at last departed with her new husband did Elizabeth turn away and give full vent to her grief and loneliness.

Indeed, Elizabeth's fears _did_ proved to be needless, for distancing himself from his lady had never been farther from Darcë's thoughts. However, it was not until December that Darcë was able to return to Longbourn. During the time of Binglorn's wedding, a search was being made for any trace of the servants of the Enemy, and Binglorn had been called to assist. Instead of allowing his friend to forsake the opportunity for happiness that lay before him, Darcë accepted the summons in his behalf, eager to do his friend any service after he had once before come between him and Miss Bennet. That business concluded, Darcë was at last at liberty to see to his own happiness.

The sky was clear on the night of his return to Bree, and the stars shown with an uncharacteristic brightness. After passing silently through the gates of Longbourn, rather than seeking admittance into the house, he turned his steps to the gardens where he knew a large tree stood. It was a place where he knew Elizabeth would be found on such a night. He saw her curled up beneath her tree - somehow he knew it to be hers - with her face turned upward so that her eyes and tears mirrored the starlight. _Or perhaps it is the reverse_, Darcë thought wistfully. He spoke no word but moved noiselessly to her side and knelt before her.

"Why these tears now, Elizabeth?" Darcë asked as he brushed away the evidence of her sorrow with a feather-light touch. "Your youngest sister is safe, your eldest has found happiness. What now is wanting to make you content?"

Elizabeth drew away in surprise at his sudden appearance and tender address.

"My lord? What do you do here? I had thought never to see you again."

Darcë smiled gently and commanded, "Answer my question, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth hesitated, for whether or not he knew it, he was asking for admittance to her heart's most sacred secrets.

"I am not ungrateful," Elizabeth said, in her embarrassment seeking some safe diversion. "I am indeed content and most happy for Jane's situation. And I know it is to you that my family owes its good fortune."

Darcë only smiled at this obvious diversion, but he was not to be deterred. "You know very well I am not seeking your gratitude, or your family's for that matter, as much as I respect them." He seized her face firmly but gently with both hands that he might gaze without hindrance into her eyes. Elizabeth gasped at the intensity of the emotions etched on his face. "Have your feelings changed at all since last summer?"

"Have yours?" Elizabeth queried, almost teasingly.

"Yes."

Darcë grinned and almost laughed aloud when Elizabeth's face abruptly fell. "Elizabeth, my feelings for you could only deepen. We elves are not easily mistaken by our own hearts, and we do not give our love lightly or carelessly, I least of all."

A sob nearly escaped from Elizabeth's throat as she heard Darcë speak the words she had so longed to hear ever since they had parted in Mithlond. However, the memory of her father's words prevented her from at once easing his suspense.

"How can I allow you to give up your life for me?" Elizabeth demanded tearfully. "Who am I that you should make such a sacrifice for my sake?"

Tears now filled Darcë's eyes, but Elizabeth was not given a chance to be shocked at the sight, for he immediately pulled her into his arms, and she felt his tears upon her neck where he rested his cheek.

"Elizabeth, my Elizabeth! I never lived before I found you! For ages I was but an empty form, walking aimlessly beneath the Sun and the Moon, awaiting the End. You brought warmth and feeling to what before was cold and bitter." Darcë drew away slightly and looked into her eyes. "Could you allow me to return to that state? I shall if I cannot be with you."

Elizabeth had never felt so lost for words, and the feeling was strange. It was not in her nature. Therefore her heart, at last freed from the bonds of reason and common sense, came forward to speak the words that sealed their fates forever.

"I love you."

Mr. Bennet was lightly dozing in his library when what seemed to be a dream visited his slumber. His dearest daughter, his Elizabeth, swept softly into the room and knelt by his chair. Taking his hand and kissing it she whispered, "Good bye, Dear Father."

He was then awakened by a sound like the closing of a door, and he found himself alone; but on his desk, an unfamiliar object glittered in the candlelight: a blue jewel set in gold that bore a star with many rays. With a certainty that brought him pain, he recognized the star as the symbol of the House of Fëanor.

Mr. Bennet rose and stood at the window. He beheld his reflection there on the panes and saw with surprise that he had been weeping.

"Good bye, Elizabeth," he whispered. "May the payment required of you for your choice not be too dear.

Thus, the people of Bree neither saw nor heard of Elizabeth Bennet again, though rumors were spread and wild conjectures made long after her disappearance. Some went so far as to say that she had been abducted by Wickham, but most held that the wizard Gandalf had whisked her away at last. Whether any of the Bennet family were better informed of her whereabouts was not known.

Mrs. Bennet, after an appropriate period of wailing and lamentation, dismissed her daughter's disappearance as an unavoidable event caused by her peculiar nature. Mr. Bennet paid no heed to the whisperings save when a particularly absurd piece of gossip reached his ears and brought forth an amused smile. It was observed however that his journeys into the Wild not only increased in number but greatly increased in duration.

During that tense period when Binglorn was away with his kindred fighting in the wars of the south, Jane was surprised by a letter given to her by Glorfindel. In hopes that it was from Elizabeth, from whom she had not received word since her departure from Bree, she hastened to the quiet of the Hall of Fire. With trembling hands, she broke the seal. The letter was in her father's hand.

_My Dear Jane, _

_Your sister, Elizabeth, has flown at last and in all likelihood will never again return to the likes of Bree. Be not alarmed, Jane. She is in no danger. On the contrary! She is undoubtedly happier now than she has ever been, for I have reason to believe she has acquired for me a most unusual son-in-law. But I will cease here and leave the rest for her. She will probably make an appearance at Rivendell some time or another._

_-Your ever affectionate father_

_P. S. Pray do not mention any of this in any letter you might have a mind to send to your mother or sisters. It would not do for Mrs. Bennet to be scurrying about town with the news that her newest son-in-law is an elf, and in any case, I doubt her nerves could handle it._

Epilogue

Elizabeth laughed mischievously as she strolled unshod along the beach, her careless steps leaving an odd trail in the sand. She continued thus till she arrived at a favorite seat of hers, a fairly large rock situated just in view of the harbor. With a little more difficulty than usual, she pulled herself onto the rock and sat comfortably on its relatively smooth surface.

Since her removal to Mithlond, she had spent many evenings in such a manner: waiting for the sun to make its glorious farewell as it descended into the West. Her husband often accompanied her, but that particular evening, he had chosen to join the other elves on the docks as a few of his acquaintance would be sailing. Then, after the ship disappears into the horizon, Elizabeth supposed Darcë would return to his home expecting to find that his wife, in pious obedience to his stern commands, had spent the evening safely indoors. Elizabeth laughed heartily at the thought and strained her eyes toward the docks in an attempt to catch a glimpse of him, but her efforts were in vain. She knew very well that Darcë, with his keen elven sight, had probably observed her already and was only waiting for the ship to depart before he would hasten to give her a sound scolding.

Elizabeth was not disappointed. The ship had barely pulled anchor before she spied a solitary figure making its way toward her. She immediately crossed her arms and assumed a look of defiance. Darcë stopped within five feet of Elizabeth's rock and regarded her in a similar fashion. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her bare feet.

"Well, my lord?" Elizabeth demanded expectantly, unabashedly dangling her feet below her. She was surprised by an abundance of merry laughter.

"Love, you are impossible! Would that you would leave me some illusion of authority in our home!"

Elizabeth frowned. "That would not do. You would not find so much amusement in my society then."

"I suppose not," Darcë conceded as he leaped nimbly onto the rock and settled down beside her, wrapping his cloak about her shoulders. "Perhaps a compromise is in order. You may defy me as it pleases you, as long as you do not endanger yourself or the little one."

"Oh, to hear an elf speak of clean sea air as if it were a danger to one's health! What is the world coming to?" Elizabeth cried with a dramatic sigh. "You are over-anxious, Love. I have always had a solid constitution."

Darcë looked intently into his wife's face as if trying to determine the truth of her words and then answered her questioning eyes with an affectionate smile and a kiss on her brow. This simple caress yielded many more until night enveloped the pair and Darcë finally recollected himself.

"It seems we have missed another sunset, my lord," Elizabeth remarked as they walked home.

Darcë laughingly noted the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "And likely it will not be the last."

Darcë and Elizabeth retired happily that evening, content with themselves, each other and their world. Knowing the respective dispositions of each, it could not be said that their evenings always passed so peaceably, but it can be assured that their mutual affection grew with time and trial. And so it was that amid the violence and upheaval of the War of the Ring, there was at least one haven of love and light untainted by darkness and despair.

The End


End file.
